#especially with something like cats which has had so many productions and designs to draw inspo from

[tabooiart]

bestie @op3ra and I did an art trade where we drew each other's Demeter designs!!! This was so sooo much fun yippee def go check out opera's half of the trade because i love it so so soooooo much <3

[dianasson]

The Uses of Blood

by Zeph Craven @dianaandpansson

A dear friend of mine, Marz (@HillbillyOracle on Tumblr) asked me about how blood has been used traditionally in witchcraft and magic and I decided to go all out with my response! Naturally, the traditions I’ll talk about here are from around Europe and European-derived cultures in the Americas, as these are the areas with which I have the most experience and feel qualified to speak about. Even this is limited by what has been written in English or Italian, which means I’m missing a lot of material! Of course, some of the following will be gory, bloody, or violent so please read with discretion (and TW: blood, animal abuse, violence). Many traditional uses of blood are inherently related to animal sacrifice or drawing blood from animals – I am not suggesting or condoning violence towards animals or people, only presenting the history and traditions as they have survived and as I best understand them.

The manners in which blood has been used in religion and mythology, or for magic and power, are both varied and continuous throughout European cultures. Some of these traditions have carried on, even if secluded to remote regions of Europe’s mountains, while others have truly fallen into obscurity. Witches, magicians, folklorists, classicists, and anyone who has seen a violent movie about cults will be familiar with a few topics covered here – if not in detail, then at least in dramatic atmosphere.

Sacrificial Blood The most common and widespread use of blood is as an offering to a spirit or deity. A simple and broad-sweeping discussion is best applied here; but I promise to not speak so generally in the following sections. Sacrificial blood is most often spilled from the neck of an animal – which is usually raised, treated, or traded in a sacred or special way. The animal might also be adorned with special ritual garbs, garlands, or ointments for the slaughter. While it is common in domestic and in secretive ceremony to offer up your own animal, in public or temple ritual the process of bringing the animal to the spirits and collecting its blood is almost always officiated by a priest or high-level initiate of some kind. This is a difficult and powerful act that must be overseen by someone trained in sacrifice, which is definitely practical to an extent – you have to know how to cut a throat – but I think the status of the officiant is mostly indicative of the intimacy and sanctity of such an offering. The moment of death is often celebrated by onlookers or participants, or else mourned as if their beloved were being slain. The blood may be spilled onto or into an altar or sacrificial pyre, or let flow into the water or soil at a sacred site such as a bog, hill, or field of repute. Frequently, the blood is collected instead. In many traditions, the blood of a sacrificed animal is sacred in itself – and the sacred is useful.

Sacrificial blood, being inherently hallowed, is an ancient and widespread tool for blessing. In fact, the English word “blessing” likely traces back to the word bledsian or ‘blood-sain’ (i.e. to hallow with blood). The blood gathered from a living sacrifice might be poured or sprinkled onto statues, walls, animals, or people. The sprinkling might be executed with a branch, rod, or sprig of a sacred herb. In chapter four of The Eyrbyggja Saga, the description of the temple notes that the bowl and rod used for sprinkling blood were kept on the altar-like stall in the center of all the god representations. Clearly, these tools were integral to the regular ceremonies of the temple.

Blood from a sacrificed animal is also a powerful, though complex, agent of purification. In ancient Greece, it was used to purify a shrine or temple 1  - frequently pig’s blood was applied as in Apollo’s case, while doves were common for Aphrodite, who abhorred swine. Purification with sacrificial blood would be accompanied by many rituals: supplications, prayers, offerings, and a disposal of the polluted remnants or lumata. It is important to note that not all blood was considered holy or ‘pure.’ In fact, the prime example of this kind of purification in Greece was almost a balancing of bloods: the sacrificial blood washed away the miasma or “pollution” of immoral bloodshed, such as murder. A murderer might suck out the blood of their victim and spit it forth repetitively to expiate the corruption of their crime. It wasn’t the physical blood of violence that needed cleansing, so much as the foul vengeful spirit of the person and the event, what we might now call ghosts and trauma. The animal’s lifeblood was sprinkled on the hands of the murderer where impure blood had shed, and then washed away. Some length of time (inconsistent through history and region) had to pass between the crime and the cleansing, and during that time the killer was somehow excluded from society. Though it is not difficult to make sense of this paradox, cleaning blood with blood was criticized even in the times of its practice. 2 In the previous example, the mechanics are only paradoxical if read hyper-literally. It is not as though any two insignificant bloods cancel each other out by contact; instead, it is something holy and potent that overpowers something wicked and polluted. Just as household cleaning agents must be engineered to bind to the dirt or oil they cleanse, there may also be some link between sacred blood attaching to dirty blood: the ‘like-affects-like’ principle making sacrifice a potent solution for this particular kind of miasma. There were epithets of deities that presided specifically over this ritual of purification and reintegration, called catharsis or κόθᾰρσῐς (kótharsis). According to Oxford Reference:

“The god who presided over purification from blood‐guilt was Zeus Katharsios, ‘Of purification’; this role derived from his general concern for the reintegration into society of displaced persons (cp. Zeus ‘Of suppliants’ and ‘Of strangers’). Apollo too could be seen as a ‘purifier of men's houses’ because his oracle at Delphi regularly gave advice on such matters.”

Violent bloodshed, childbirth, death, and corpses could all pollute a person or place with miasma, and sacrificial blood was only one tool of many for cleaning it away. Interestingly, the violent bloodshed of battle was less important and could simply be washed off. 3  With no greater significance is the trauma and poison of war-blood treated now. Later, on the outskirts of Greek cult-influences, menstrual blood was considered a pollutant that must be purified before entering temples – along with many other bodily fluids such as semen – yet menstrual fluids were rarely written of at all. 4 Some ‘scientific’ texts from this period suggest that menstruation is a form of purification itself, which could indicate why some might have considered the expulsed fluids impure. There are ancient Roman writers that speak of menstrual blood as a destructive force, in many ways that actually sound quite useful. However these are not the documentations of practices – rather products of solitary musings on agricultural metaphysics. These writers weren’t documenting, they were thinking ‘out-loud.’ Yet, it is not a far stretch to suppose that menstrual blood may have been considered a form of miasma in later Mediterranean sacred structures, especially looking at the modern practices of purification by sacrificial blood in some mountain communities of Georgia (Pshavi, Xevsuri, and Svaneti), which have strict taboos around menstruation in ritual structure, village composition, and social functions such as hunting. 5 These areas of Georgia were not once so distant from the cultures of the Greek empire, Colchis being a notable region of these mountains where the story of Jason and the Golden Fleece took place. In this story, Colchis is the kingdom of the infamous sorcerer Aeëtes and his daughter Medea, the witch, for whom Circe herself performed a purification of miasma by pig’s blood with prayers to Zeus of Suppliants. 6 The Kartvelian societies, in modern-day Georgia, were conquered in succession by Persia, Greece, and Rome. Where these rituals have survived (though some have supposed they were reinvented) in Georgia, the ganatvla sacrifice is carried out by a priest in a space kept pure and guarded with taboo, in the presence of St. George, his female partner, and/or other “children of God” (xvtisšvilni). Healing and benediction are prayed for as the bovid’s life spills over the supplicant’s arms, and this good blood is thought to drive out bad blood and impurities. One of the primary impurities is menstrual blood, and menstruating people are made to leave the general border of the village and pass their cycle in designated huts on the outskirts of the community.

In Xevsureti, the purification of religious spaces with sacrificial blood is so vital that they have creatively managed to introduce blood on structures restricted to humans. There are certain buildings so pure that even the highest priests cannot go near them, yet they soak snowballs in blood from the sacrifice and launch them at the walls from afar in blessing. 7 However, impure blood, such as the blood of a cat, might be spilled to sever the link between community and divinity, as seen in the ballads of the Zurab Cycle.

Well into the 20th century, rural Ireland would have been familiar with the bleeding of geese, cockerels and hens, pigs, or goats (though geese were most popular) on the eve of Martinmas (Nov. 11th). The animal would be offered to St. Martin and its blood spilled and sprinkled around the household, with some variation county to county. It was almost always spilled at the doorstep or on the doorposts, but often sprinkled in the corners of the house or kitchen as well, and this pattern was mimicked in the stables. Crosses were sometimes made with the blood on the floor and on the foreheads of the family members. Once, it would have been common in some counties to soak up the blood with cotton. This object was then hung up in the rafters, or else pressed against the body to relieve pains. The whole ritual kept out sickness and danger for the year. The reasoning behind the sacrifice, as well as the choice in animal, shifted frequently – usually having some connection to how the saint was killed, or else being a specific sickly animal promised earlier to St. Martin in exchange for its continued health until Martin’s Eve. Though blood-pudding was a relatively common dish, there were frequently taboos about using this sacrificed blood for consumption. Many good examples of this celebration can be found in the Duchas National Folklore Archive. Dr. Billy Mag Fhloinn has argued that this Martinmas blood-sacrifice is a remnant of older Samhain traditions – as the shift to Gregorian calendar would put November 11th (modern) around October 30th in the Julian calendar. I hesitate to indulge this theory, as I do not see all pivotal rituals, games, and social functions transferring dates to match the contemporary calendric year except this singular rite, but Mag Fhloinn himself is hesitant and cautious enough. I think it highly plausible that this is a purely Irish-Catholic ceremony, incorporating rituals that inherently reveal the functions of the natural world according to older Irish world-views: in other words, that blood sacrifice as a means of purification and protection was not in contradiction with the sanctity of God and the Church. It just worked, so it kept on.

This is actually amazing, considering the contradiction of blood as a purifying agent (mentioned previously) was such a severe point for philosophers and theologians over a thousand years prior, though that ilk is by definition less concerned with what is practical. Blood sacrifice is inherently dramatic. Like orgies, infanticide, and cannibalism, Greeks and Romans eventually used the image of blood sacrifice as a polemic tool for propaganda against Pagans, Jewish communities, and more distant cultures. Most especially utilized was the image of far-off ‘barbarians’ sacrificing humans, a point that some Roman historians used to criticize their own history [read: chart their sophistication.] By the 3rd Century CE – things are getting a little Christian now – even animal blood sacrifice was brought into suspicion in the high seats of Roman imperial religion, scholarship, and governance. Pythagoreans and Platonists moved away from the older practical applications of purification as a directly effective ritual, bringing catharsis to a metaphysical, philosophical, and eventually psychological light. 8

Initiation by Blood Unspecific to tradition, there are some initiatory rituals that call on blood (be it from sacrificed animals, the initiate, or even divine blood) to be reborn. A striking example of this is the taurobolium: an initiation of priests into the cult of the goddess Cybele, who came from Asia Minor where she was worshiped for millennia under unknown names. Her oldest appearance is from around 6,000 BC in Phrygia, though the detailed descriptions of this ritual come from later Roman writers after her cult had travelled to that peninsula, where she was called Ma’tris Magnae (Great Mother) or Ma’tris Deum (Mother of Gods). 9 In English, she is often referred to as Magna Mater but I’ve always found that bothersome; I think if you’re going to use a Latinate name then use the real Latin name! If that’s too hard, just translate it and call her Great Mother. Her cult was perhaps most infamous for its priesthood of male eunuchs and its castrated-animal sacrifices – very threatening concepts to the imperial patriarchy.

The initiate would stand in a pit that had been covered by planks of wood, in which holes had been made, and a sacrificial bull would be lowered onto the planks. As the initiate covered his ribbon-crowned head with his toga, the bull was killed and its blood released by spear thrusts and tugs that widened the wounds. The initiate would emerge from the pit, unrecognizably drenched in hot, smelly blood. According to Prudentius, the blood was even expected to be let into the mouth, which strikes me as indicative that you are not only purging outside influences with the holiness of the sacrifice but also inner impurities and insufficiencies, making your whole self ready for service to the Great Goddess. Some accounts say a goat or ram might be killed in conjunction with the bull as a sacrifice to Ma’tris Magnae’s lover, Attis. Both animals would be castrated. 10

One brief example from the Greek Magical Papyri (Papyri Gracae Magicae, or PGM) describes a ritual of initiation into the mysteries of magic by drinking the blood of a white cockerel (or rooster) before jumping into the Nile. 11 Submersion into natural, especially sacred, bodies of water is common in initiation rituals throughout Europe and the Mediterranean, but this is a pretty unique application of cockerel blood. White and black cockerels are common fauna in Euro-centric magical recipes along with cats, goats and rams, owls, lapwings, and doves or pigeons. A white cockerel has the properties of a high masculine divinity, of an upper-worldly or celestial persuasion, and might therefore be used in magic for success, love, conquering, protection, or appealing to that same divinity. In this initiation ceremony, we might understand the consumption of its blood as integrating these properties to the self, alongside a purification and rebirth in the sacred river.

Jumping forward about 1,200 years, we see a very different use of blood in a very different kind of initiation. Isobel Gowdie gave a confession in 1662 to crimes of witchcraft near Auldearn, Scotland. She gave many vivid accounts of her illicit outings with the Devil, the fairies, and her coven. The following scene describes the renunciation of her baptism and the ritual of being re-baptized by the Devil:

“Margaret Brodie, in Aulderne, held me up to the Divell, until he re-baptised me, and marked me in the shoulder, and with his mouth sucked out my blood at that place, and spouted it in his hand, and sprinkling it upon my head and face, he said, ‘I baptize ye, Janet, to my self, in my own name!’”

Janet is the new name bestowed upon Isobel by the Devil here, her un-Christian name you could say. Her own blood is applied, in place of the baptismal water or oil. It is noteworthy that the blood is sucked into the Devil’s mouth before being used to anoint her, perhaps cycling it through his divinity and imbuing it with ‘unholiness.’ This initiation might be seen as necessary for a witch to work with the Devil. Since the Catholic ritual of baptism is a cleansing of sins and an exorcism of the Devil in its own right, it might prevent such ungodly powers working within a person. In this light, the consumption and sprinkling of Isobel’s blood may function as a re-administration of sin into her soul, thus severing her connection with God.

Another 277 years later, and an ocean away, we find a new kind of blood in the initiation of witches and magicians. There is blood to be found in folk stories of witches sacrificing animals (black cats and black cockerels) to the Devil for initiation and ensuing magic throughout the Appalachian and Ozark Mountains, yet the most fascinating example is neither a direct sacrifice nor an ingredient. A story from Wise County, Virginia recounts how a young man gained his powers. After eight mornings of rigorous ritual process:

“On the ninth morning, he took his gun and the silver bullet with him. He shot the bullet toward the sun as it came up over the ridge. They had told him that if the sun looked as if it were dripping blood as it came up, then he would be a witch.”

The ninth morning didn’t present him with all the required signs of confirmation, and it took him two full years to complete his initiation as a ‘conjure man.’ Shooting the sun follows many clearly chthonic and sacrilegious rituals, which might indicate that this is a metaphor of wounding God and denouncing him. The dripping blood is confirmation of the initiate’s power to stand against the Christian God, who was once frequently associated with solar imagery. This is truly speculative, yet if the symbolism holds in context, this would be an example of divine blood within initiatory divination. 12

Bloody Witchcraft Now that we’ve dipped our toes into early modern witchcraft, let’s go in deeper. When the image of the early modern witch is merged with the image of blood, one might first jump to the scenes of paranoia previously listed: orgies, infanticide, and cannibalism. Thanks to twelfth century theologians and sixteenth century Protestants, we can now add dramatic demonic sacrifice to that list. Despite the excitable and repetitive fanfare of the Witch Craze, there are many intriguing elements of blood-work in witchcraft to be examined besides the initiations discussed previously.

In late 1500s England, it was common knowledge that familiar spirits (i.e. beings provided to a witch or magician by the Devil, God, its previous owner, or the monarchy of Fairy to help with magic and mischief) might be fed with blood from the witch’s body. While milk, bread, or butter was the most common offering, blood remained a more fanatical portrayal for the popular culture of the courts and taverns. It was common knowledge that a witch might feed their familiar spirit with blood let from the mark left on them by the Devil, perhaps at initiation. 13

In continental Europe, examples abound of witches that feed on blood from quite ancient to very modern folklore. The definition of “witch” is blurred in this context: they might be incorporeal beings that can afflict, abduct, and loot not unlike the fairies, sucking the blood from men and babes in the night. 14 The witch may instead be your very tangible neighbor: unlikeable and affronting, who frequents Sabbats and wets their gullet with blood while feasting on infant corpses before dancing erotically for the Adversary. There is an association with witches and the creature strix (screecher), as blood-sucking entities 15 that find victims in the night. Through evolution or syncretism the strix became strigoi, and was related with vampyr, and vrykolakas: creatures of a sorcerous nature that thrive on human blood and remains. Incorporeal, animal, or humanoid witches might feed on blood for power and longevity. The latter might use it to attain those non-human shapes. Witches in the Balkans were said to use children’s blood as an ingredient in their transformative ointments and unguents 16  – though infant fat was far more common elsewhere on the continent, I doubt much effort would have been made to wash clean their diabolical cooking lard so we can bet on some blood in there too. In Scandinavian witch trials, there is an example of the blood and pelt of a cat being adorned to take on its very form. 17 For witches, blood is sustenance and life or it is a gory detail in scenes of taboo ceremony. If the story of any particular witch’s ritual incorporates elements of more Abrahamic magic, then its use of blood will align better with those covered in the grimoire section below. As Matteo Duni discusses throughout his book Under the Devil’s Spell, the intersection of witches and literate magicians in early modern Europe was broader than many suppose, and these folks talked and traded secrets quite a lot.

Blood as Medicine Blood has medicinal functions as well as diabolical. In older Euro-centric medical thought, our blood might carry forces within it that induce illness. The spiritual and the scientific were not so juxtaposed once, and it may have been a build-up of that hot, red humor or a malefic presence in the blood that caused a fever, high blood pressure, apoplexy, and/or headaches. The persistent cure was letting that excessive/bad blood out of the body: i.e. bloodletting.

Some cures prescribe blood as a magico-medical ingredient. In County Kerry, Ireland a swelling or injury in the leg could be cured by taking the blood from a cat’s ear and drawing a ring with it around the affected area. There was also a belief in some areas of the country that the blood of people in certain families could cure specific diseases, for example folks with the last name of Cahill could make symbols with the blood of their little finger and speak a prayer to cure someone of “wild-fire” disease. The blood of a black cat could cure the same affliction. In the Pennsylvania-Dutch magico-medical text Long Lost Friend, we find a cure for epilepsy in drinking the blood of a dove.

Blood in Divination A common form of divination in North and Central America is divination by egg, or oomancy. The egg is passed ritualistically over the patient’s body before being cracked into water. The signs that the floating whites and yolk make can be read to tell fortunes or diagnose problems. Any spots or streaks of blood in the mixture are considered an incredibly bad omen.

The shades of the dead around the ancient Mediterranean would feast on spilled blood, and the blood of all-black animals was an efficacious offering to them. In the Odyssey, most-likely written down in the 8th century BC, Circe gives Odysseus advice for consulting with the dead: in a particular cave, a trench was to be dug (a proper altar for underworldly spirits) into which libations of milk, honey, sweet wine, water and barley grain were made. Finally, sheep were led to the edge of the pit where Odysseus cut their throats and let the dark blood spill in, all the while making prayers to dwellers in the house of Hades. He stands with his sword between the pit of blood and the shades when they come, postponing their desire to feast on it and tantalizing them until he receives his intended counsel. Over 2,000 years later, this ritual of consorting with the dead has survived in the grimoire of Arthur Gauntlet, though understandably changed and with a subtly different interpretation on the means of summoning:

“Now these souls…are easily allured by the [body-] like vapours, liquors and savours. From hence it is that the souls of the dead are not called forth, without blood, or the putting of some part of the forsaken body & we perfume with fresh blood in the calling forth of Shadows, with the bones of the dead, and flesh, with Eggs, Milk, honey, Oil and the like which attribute a fit means for the souls to assume their bodies.” 18

Around the 1st century BC, Varro also mentions the pouring of blood into a divination bowl to draw the spirits of the deceased – who see much more than we – to the diviner. 19 Blood in Magic In magic, the main uses of blood draw on its continued association with its original host. An animal’s blood may be included in a spell because of that animal’s magical properties and associations. A person’s blood contains their essence and maintains a link with the target or the spell-caster respectively, which is manipulated through ritual. The connection with the source of blood, or perhaps the implied sacrifice, also gives power to writing magical words and symbols.

Personal effects are bodily fluids or trimmings that are included in spells to increase the power of the ritual. For example, a figure of a person made in wax or clay would have some power over the target just by being shaped and named for them. However, the inclusion of blood, hair, or nail clippings dramatically increases the efficacy of the magic. Even personal items, such as bits of clothing, are useful, though much more so if they’ve soaked up some of the target’s sweat. The blood of the spell-caster might be administered to their victim, disguised in food or drink, as a consistent method of forcing love and seduction. Sometimes the type of blood fed to a victim is unspecific: sometimes it is menstrual, and other times it is even an animal’s. Usually, the latter would be a dove or pigeon, which are associated with Venus.

Blood could also be used in undoing magic and breaking spells. In Hungary, 1730, a Mrs. Mihály Jóna presented a cure for the evil eye to her patient: the mother was to procure three drops of blood from the little finger of the person who “saw” her daughter (gave her the evil eye) and to drip it into her daughter’s eyes. This would relieve her of the illness that the evil eye caused. 20 In early modern England there was a rather specific belief that a witch sighting their own blood would have all their spells broken. This obviously led to some relatively violent attacks on suspected witches. Perhaps a callback to the previously discussed purification by sacrificial blood, a Devon cunning-woman named Agnes Hill performed this ritual to cure a woman of sickness by witchcraft:

“Hill then said we must kill the cock, and desired her mother to cut its throat, which she did with a razor. The cock was held over the new earthen pan, holding the fasting water [her mother’s urine] and the blood, which was mingled together, and then put over the fire to boil. Hill then cut open the cock, and took out its heart, and told her mother to stick seven new pins into it, likewise seven new needles, and nine blackthorn prickles. The ash wood was put on the fire under the pan, the heart was hung up to roast before the fire, and it was afterwards thrown into the fire, pins, needles, and all.” 21

Here the cockerel’s older associations with the sun, success, and conquering might be invoked to drive away the malefic influences of the witch. Perhaps the celestial masculine divinities of which it was once symbolic were even replaced by or subtly aligned with the Christian god of Agnes’ time in 19th century Devonshire.

The weightiest source of blood-use in magic comes from the grimoires of continental Europe, Iceland, and England. Sometimes, the application of specific animals’ blood seems to break from the overall patterns, and the text itself can seem to be sewn together from opposite ends of missing sentences. The way these tomes were passed on was often by hand-copying each word, and the transference of some very ancient rituals over the span of many hundreds of years has surely let some material and context fall into the cracks of history. Due to the overwhelming and obscure specificities of the material, these examples will be found predominantly in the post-script notes.

Properties of animals in folk magic and grimoire traditions directly correlate to the applications of their blood. To quote Agrippa, in a hyper-literal example, “It is also believed that the blood of a bear, if it be sucked out of her wound, doth increase strength of body, because that animal is the strongest creature.” 22 Every animal has some magical properties, but these associations definitely change over time and by location. There are very common animals, and persistent patterns, that allow parallels and conclusions to be drawn. In continental European and American folk magic for example a cat might represent a woman and a dog might stand for a man. Bits of those animals are used to affect their respective genders and provide a symbolic link to the magical targets. In the Balkans, blood of a dog and cat were sprinkled on the path between wandering husband and his paramour to cause dislike between them, which could be read differently as the essence of two animals that like to fight being used to cause discord. The color of the animals would have likely been relevant, but this is not included in the account. 23 In the continental and English grimoires there is usually an implied proper procedure for procuring blood from an animal – not just where to cut, but when, and accompanied by which exorcisms, etc. That blood was used in the consecration of sorcerous ritual tools; as an ingredient in or as itself a magical ink; combined into a perfume with herbs and other fleshy or mineral bits; mixed into oil to make a lamp; or anointed as a refreshing face-mask!

If the blood must come from the magician, it is almost always drawn from the little finger, or else it does not specify. The magician’s own blood is used for writing sacred words and incantations, mostly in love spells and cures – though in at least one instance for the conjuration of spirits with a more arcane intention. In Long Lost Friend there is a different sort of love administered, with the magician feeding a dog their blood to create an instant bond between the two.

However, Icelandic magic uses the magician’s blood drawn from specific and varied areas of the body such as certain toes or fingers, or the thigh. Blood would be traced into carved symbols and words on wood, bone, skin, or stone. One example is how the witch Þuríðr uses magic to defeat a great Icelandic hero, rubbing her blood into runes on a beached log while speaking a charm, and walking around it counter-clockwise. 24

Bloodstains Blood leaves a mark: that has always been said. Places of great bloodshed are sacred to the spirits of Mars in grimoire magic. They are also very feasible settings for raising the dead. However, the most famous and infamous bloodstains are a break from the previous sections; 25 they are not made from animals or mortals. When the blood of gods is spilled, there is a creation to it and a power to it. Jesus, Chronos, and Prometheus all had blood spill from them in torture or death. Whatever this blood touched was changed; adding colors to animals, plants, and minerals, or else creating powerful new flora that have great use to any magician. The spilling of the blood of Jesus is a pervasive and consistent image in magical charms and prayers of all sorts. It is his blood that is consumed in the wine of every communion ritual. In the Prose Edda, the gods of the Æsir and Vanir formed a peace treaty, and from the spittle of their treaty they created a man of pure wisdom named Kvasir, who entertains them and travels the world answering many riddles and questions. The dwarves, Fjalar and Galarr, who value little above what they can create and forge, pulled Kvasir aside, slitting his throat and draining his blood into vats of honey for making mead. This mead carried his wisdom, scholarliness, and poesy forever through his blood. It was once said that whoever had a genius for poetry had drunk from this mead. In 20th century Irish manuscripts from the Duchas archive, there are many entries about bloodstains from violent deaths where the ugliness of the crime was so wicked the blood refuses to be cleaned. There are also many stains on stones and churches from martyred priests that likewise never fade, in which we see a touch of the divine. The blood of the otherworld neighbors, the fairies, has also stained many a stone throughout Ireland’s counties, said to be the sign of a battle between the Good Neighbors. Whether it’s godhood, otherworldliness, or extreme violence, some blood doesn’t wash away – my sympathies to Lady Macbeth.

The way we look at blood in ritual has undergone many cycles of change and of repetition, traces of which can be seen in our current cultures. From practical applications, and cosmological ramifications, to a prop on a stage of fear, there are examples from literal thousands of years ago through to this past Sunday. Sacrifices and stains surround us, and we walk around with this potent fluid sloshing through our bodies, invisibly waiting to be tapped and put to use in casting enchantments or feeding our secret spirits. I hope this has been illuminating to you, in some degree, and I beg forgiveness for any major oversights or misinterpretations in this text. Be nice to your pets please. See post-script for endnotes, and for examples of blood in grimoire texts.

Examples from the Grimoires:

In no particular order, here are examples of blood in grimoire texts. Where unspecified, assume the blood is applied as ink. Enjoy.

From the Greater Key of Solomon: Book II – Many sorcerous tools are dipped in various bloods as part of their preparation. A ceremonial white-handled dagger is sanctified in blood of a gosling bird and the juice of a pimpernel and engraved before being wrapped in white silk. The famous black-handled knife used to strike fear in the heart of spirits should be dipped in blood of a black cat with juice of hemlock and engraved before being wrapped in black silk. The ritual sickle is dipped in blood of magpie and juice of mercury-herb. This text also has a procedure on the proper purifications, rituals, and prayers needed to take blood from a bat and other animals for use in magic. There are instructions for general animal sacrifice and it does specify that the animals should be virgins (yes in the sexual sense), and it includes words that should be said later when spilling the blood in Chapter XXII. Book I – The blood of a black hen is used on hare skin to prevent a hunter from his bounty. Blood and fat of a dead man are used in an oil lamp to reveal hidden treasure. For spells of trickery and deceit the ‘pen of art’ should be dipped in the blood of a bat previously procured in the correct manner for use. Pentacles – Blood of a screech owl in conjunction with a swallow pen is to be used for the Second Pentacle of Jupiter, and the blood of a bat in the Seventh Pentacle of Mars.

From the Black Pullet: The magician’s wand is stained with lamb’s blood in its creation and sanctification.

From Agrippa: Perfumes – Blood of a white cockerel for Sun perfume, goose blood for Moon, bat for Saturn, stork or swallow for Jupiter, blood of a man and of a black cat for Mars, pigeon (or dove) for Venus (boar’s blood in Arthur Gauntlet), and magpie for Mercury.

From the Sword of Moses: No.55 Uses your own blood as ink on an egg for a love spell and No.64 Uses your own blood as ink on both your doors for the same. How embarrassing!

From the 6th and 7th Books of Moses: Writing magical circles with the blood of young white doves for the inquisition and enslaving of spirits, and the blood of butterflies for writing the seals of the Seven Great Princes who are nature and treasure spirits.

8th Book of Moses: Baboons blood is used in a spell to send dreams to your target.

From the Lemegeton I: Goetia: Writing another seal for binding spirits with the blood of a black cockerel that has never mated with a hen.

From the Grimoirum Verum: Your own blood from your little (Mercurial) finger for writing the conjurations of spirits, the use of white pigeon (dove) blood to inscribe names of the Hebrew God on a mirror for divination, and To Make a Girl Dance in the Nude, which involves the blood of a bat on a blessed stone over which mass has been said. It is a very unpleasant spell: “She will undress and be completely naked, and will dance increasingly until death, if one does not remove the character; with grimaces and contortions which will cause more pity than desire.” Quite disturbing!

From Grimoire of Honorius: While creating a sacred lambskin to avoid perversion and corruption from the demons the magician will engage upon, the lamb is sacrificed, but the magician must make an effort not to spill the blood of the sacrificial lamb onto the earth. Perhaps this is an avoidance of old-pagan blood-sacrificial dirtiness, or avoidance of telluric impurity?  

From SLOANE MS 3824 (called the Book of Treasure Spirits by Rankine): The invocation symbol for the spirit Mamon is drawn in lapwing or black cat blood, and in discovering a treasure trove the blood of a black cockerel is used variously as ink.

From the Book of Gold: Psalm 43 can be written in bird’s blood to destroy an enemy, Psalm 59 in billy goat’s blood for releasing the bonds of your own actions, Psalm 60 in white cockerel blood to bring back your wife, Psalm 90 in dove blood to protect and embolden fearful children, and Psalm 103 is written in bat or black hen blood for a love spell. Psalm 136 should be drawn in menstrual blood to stop blood – the phrasing in the text implies this may be a charm to staunch menstrual bleeding specifically.

From the Grimoire of Arthur Gauntlet: Bat blood to make spent money return; dove blood in a protection spell; blood from the finger of the magician in a cure for the falling sickness; ant eggs and blood of a white hen anointed on face let you see wonders; blood of a lapwing, white owl, raven, mole, hen etc. (super-bloody-murder-bath) for finding and conversing with familiar spirits; bat’s blood onto an apple before it falls, given to eat as a love spell; cockerel and sparrow blood written on a candle to summon a woman to it; white pigeon blood on green silk to attain the love of all people; bleed a bat with glass or flint and write “J” and touch to target who shall follow you, this can be tested first on a dog; and the blood of a turtledove written as a charm on virgin parchment and sewn into a pouch to be worn for success in playing dice.

Book of Oberon: This is really drawn from many older texts, but just to give this book some light – the blood of a lapwing may be suffumigated with lignum aloes to produce visions of spirits. For shooting competitions there is a ritual that includes dipping the arrows in the blood of your left finger.

From Papyri Graecae Magicae: # IV 1928-2005 – Serpent blood ink for binding a restless dead spirit with Helios for love magic, the following entry uses blood of an ass, eel, and falcon similarly. #IV 2145-2240 – Uses the blood of someone who died violently mixed with myrrh resin on bay leaf for an oracular divination.

From the Galdrabók: No. 34 Is a love spell placing worm or serpent blood where the target will walk over it along with other charms. No.45 Requires blood drawn from the big toe and right hand of the magician, which should be smeared on the yarrow herb as well as the required staves, in a spell to uncover a thief. No. 46 Is the famous fart rune, for which blood should be drawn from the thigh. 47 Also requires blood from the big toe to create the Helm of Hiding.

From Kreddur: No.15 Discover a thief using blood from under the left-hand middle finger to draw the appropriate staves.

Endnotes:   1 Parker, Robert. Miasma: Pollution and Purification in Early Greek Religion. Oxford, Clarendon Press/Oxford University Press, 1986, pp. 27-30. 2 Ibid, p. 372. 3 Ibid, p. 114 4 Ibid, p. 101. 5 Tuite, Kevin. “Highland Georgian Paganism – Archaism or Innovation?” Annual for the Society of the Study of the Caucuses, Université de Montréal, 1996, pp. 284. Parker, Robert. Miasma: Pollution and Purification in Early Greek Religion. Oxford, Clarendon Press/Oxford University Press, 1986, p. 370 6 Tuite, Kevin. “Highland Georgian Paganism – Archaism or Innovation?” Annual for the Society of the Study of the Caucuses, Université de Montréal, 1996, p.6 7 Fraser, Kyle. “Roman Antiquity: the Imperial Period.” Cambridge History of Magic and Witchcraft in the West, edited by David J. Collins, S.J., Cambridge University Press, p.133. 8 The distinction between Pythagorean pagans and sorcerous polytheists is mentioned by Porphyry, in an analysis of blood/flesh sacrifice vs. ascetic and moral acts of devotion. 9 Turcan, Robert. The Cults of the Roman Empire. Oxford, Blackwell Publishers Ltd., 1996, p.28. 10 Ibid, p. 52. 11 The Greek Magical Papyri: In Translation. Edited by Hans Dieter Betz. University of Chicago Press, 1986, PGM IV. 26-51, pp. 37-38. 12 Combs, Josiah Henry. “Sympathetic Magic in the Kentucky Mountains: Some Curious Folk-Survivals.” The Journal of American Folklore, vol. 27, no. 105, 1914, p. 329.   13 Wilby, Emma. Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits. Chicago, Sussex Academic Press, 2013, pp. 82 & 109. Along with milk and bread by around In 1566, Joan Prentice let her familiar, Bid, suck blood from her cheek before bed. In 1582, Margery Sammon’s mother told her that the familiar the latter passed on must be given milk, if not they would suck her blood instead. 14 Scottish and Manx fairies, if not appeased by offerings of fresh water and bread, might drink your blood instead. 15 Perhaps screech owls or bats. 16 Vukanović, T.P. “Witchcraft in the Central Balkans I: Characteristics of Witches. Folklore, Vol.100, 1989, p. 12. 17 Willumsen, Liv Helene. “Children Accused of Witchcraft in 17th-Century Finnmark.” Scandinavian Journal of History, vol. 38, 2013, p. 27. 18 The Grimoire of Arthur Gauntlet, edited by David Rankine. Avalonia, 2011, p. 208. 19 Gordon, Richard. “Good to Think: Wolves and Wolf-Men in the Graeco-Roman World.” Werewolf Histories, edited by Willem de Blécourt, Palgrave Macmillan, 2015, p. 45. 20 Kristóf, Ildikó Sz. “The Social Background of Witchcraft Accusations in Early Modern Debrecen and Bihar County.” Witchcraft and Demonology in Hungary and Transylvania, edited by Transylvania Gábor Klaniczay and Éva Pócs, Palgrave Macmillan, 2017, p. 35. 21 Davies, Owen and Easton, Timothy. “Cunning Folk and the Production of Magical Artefacts.” Physical Evidence for Ritual Acts, Sorcery and Witchcraft in Christian Britain, edited by Ronald Hutton, Palgrave Macmillan, 2015, p. 214. 22 Agrippa, Henry Cornelius. Three Books of Occult Philosophy or Magic, edited by Willis F. Whitehead, Hahn & Whitehead, 1898, p. 73. 23 Vukanović, T.P. “Witchcraft in the Central Balkans I: Characteristics of Witches. Folklore, Vol.100, 1989, p. 15. 24 Mitchell, Stephen A. Witchcraft and Magic in the Nordic Middle Ages. Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania Press, 2011, p. 94. 25 Perhaps excepting the Appalachian witch’s ritual evidence discussed in the Initiation section. Image Credits (in order): Blood in water. source unknown (anyone know it?), accessed via google images Feb. 3rd 2020. Blood saining, from Beowulf and Grendell (2005), dir. Sturla Gunnarsson. accessed via Facebook, Feb. 1st 2020. Bainbridge, Alexander, 2015. Mindia toasts the memory of Iakshar after the sheep sacrifice, Beer and blood sacrifices: meet the Caucus pagans who worship ancient deities, Indipendent.co UK, accessed Feb. 1st 2020. Bleeding for St. Martin, posted in 2005 on Sligo Heritage, original source unknown, accessed Feb. 1st 2020. Taurobolium, or Consecration of the Priests of Cybele under Antoninus Pius (Detail).Engraving by Bernhard Rode (undated, ca. 1780). Accessed via Wikipedia Feb 3rd. 2020. Witches being baptized by the Devil, or Tiercement le confirme en cette opinion luy grauant de ses ongles le front pour d'illec tollir le Chresme & signe baptismal. (Fig. 5.). Woodcut. Accessed via Project Gutenberg Feb. 3rd 2020. Blood in wine glass, source unknown (again, anyone?), accessed via google images Feb. 1st 2020. Blood on hand, source unknown (again?), accessed via Giphy Feb. 3rd 2020. Crown of thorns, (possibly) @Doug21, 2007, on Flickr, accessed via Flickr Feb. 3rd 2020.

[bag-chips]

(Apologies for the length, messy handwriting poor quality uwu)

I binged all the Mechanisms albums in one day and became utterly obsessed with the idea of them being Jon’s uni band. On top of this I got thinking about the theatre lines in MAG 172. Ergo, here’s a master post of various Mechanism!Jon and Theatre!Jon scenarios! (it’s mainly Jonmartin fluff I’m not going to lie to you). It took four days. Last night I stayed up till nearly four trying to get it done cos I hate myself ;)

1) My design for Mechanism Jon. He’s absolutely one of those guys who grow excessive facial hair to look older and more mature. And, oh look! Some JonGeorgie stuff. Rather than being a member of the band, I’d like to think she acts as the behind the scenes manager, helping out with bookings lighting and costumes. It will become apparent that Jon is like my fave and I’m soft for this stupid little man.

2) Depressed S3 Jon with the Admiral. Jon prefers to not talk about the band, especially since most of the Archival staff make fun of him for it anyway. However, he absolutely ends up quoting Mech songs when he’s on his own, especially when emotionally compromised. The aftermath of this little sketch would be Jon spitting out the whisky and nearly throwing up because he hates the taste and can only really stand very weak alcoholic drinks (hey hi hello I’m projecting).

Stupid sketch of him taking part in a Shakespeare production. Jon was and still is a theatre kid, taking part in any play or musical he could during his uni years. He’s a dramatic little bitch but damn does he have a fantastic stage pressence. Georgie proudly supports him from behind the curtain.

3) Martin finds out about the Mechanisms through Tim, who uses the material to expertly tease Jon. Martin finds pictures. Martin’s crush is cemented he is homosexual he is transfixed by the images. This leads to him listening to the albums, which outside of them being by his crush he genuially does love them. He often finds himself listening to them whilst working around the Archives, but takes great efforts to hide his love of the Mechs from a curious Jon.

4) Everyone at the Archives knows about the band. Tim and Melanie are the lead culprits in mocking him about it, especially in the tense work environment of S3. (For context Mechanism shows had the tradition of Jonny De’Ville claiming he was the captain, with Gunpowder Tim and the audience then proclaiming that no he’s the first mate Jonny stop Jonny no. Go listen to the Death of the Mechanisms you’ll see).

5) Post-MAG172 argument. Who will win? The poetry nerd or the theatre kid?

6) (Read downwards until the next row the layouts weird cos I sketched it whilst sleep deprived at 2am ;) ). Jonmartin fluff!

TMA is a tragedy. Listening to the Mechanism albums has made that very clear. So the next couple of images would be set in a happy ending AU fuck u they’re going to get married let me dream.

7) (Apologies for the weird writing again sleep deprived). Jon wants to fulfill his side of the bargain and take Martin to the theatre. After many trips to Georgie’s and a lot of planning, Jon decides to take them on a date to see Cats at the West End, since it turns out Martin knows the original poems. Thing is, this is their first proper date. And it so happens to conicide with their first anniversary. And Jon wants to spoil Martin with an engagement present as an apology (Jon ruined the proposal with his eye powers). Jon wants to go big. And it just so happens that Elias left a lot of money. He decides to go ham and get them a private box. He gets Georgie to book it for them since he wants it to be a surprise and despite his Eldritch mind google he can’t figure out how to work a laptop.

Martin is told he’s going to the theatre. However it takes until they’re collecting the tickets at the front desk for Jon to reveal the seats and thus allude to the expenses. Martin has always worried about money given his upbringing, and panics, nearly having a full blown argument with Jon in front of the ticket man. Jon really should have listened to Georgie’s warnings.

8) (The Wikipedia text box thing was inspired by a brilliant TMA comic, once I find it again I’ll link it!) Jon is very much excited for the perfomance, and infodumps about it. Martin is still annoyed about the expense of the date but starts to relax and mellow out once he gets a glass of wine in his hand and a quiet moment to listen to his fiancée talk passionately about something.

9) The gays get ice cream and discuss who’s the prettiest actor in the interval. Martin is very much wired to how Jon works now, and uses the conversation to calm him down a bit (I think Jon was very much concerned that Martin might leave him over this bless that man).

10) The couple head home after a few quiet drinks at the bar. Jon is exchausted - mentally strained by the worry of perfecting the date, his emotional investment into the show and the two glasses of wine he had. Martin forgives him for the excessive nature of the trip, but would be lying is he said he didn’t enioy the show (even if it was mainly experiencing it through Jon’s expressive face, investment and him mouthing the lyrics quietly to himself). He’s going to ask if they can maybe listen to a different musical album whilst Jon recovers from his inevitable hangover tomorrow, but first he needs to gently carry his pissed and sleepy partner up to bed.

I wanted to draw soft things I’m sorry I love this podcast with all my heart have a nice day

[weirdo-with-a-nametag]

Brain is tv static with random frames interspersed

Think I'm like. Really stressed and jumping between topics to try and find something that helps / feels good

Topics:

Anyone know a good health tracking app for adhd people? I want one that like pops up when you open your phone, maybe? But is unobtrusive. Like maybe you just rate your mood or whatever when you open your phone, and it closes, and you go about your business. I just hate every app and paper method I've tried but really want to track some stuff

Pigeon. ? Pigeon as pet?

Service animals re: cats, pigeons, my cat specifically, and then also ESAs and also what to use as treats while training my cat (he's pretty happy to learn behaviors with praise and pets as reinforcement, but treats would make everything move much faster, but I haven't found something I want to give him so we've just been y'know. Chillin)

Service animals re: what tasks can my pet potentially do that would help me? I don't really know a lot about service animals and there is a Huge range. If anyone has suggestions, or places to read about it, I'd appreciate it! Mostly thinking they may help with anxiety, sensory, and mobility/fatigue related stuff. Not much of a need for medical alerts.

Bioactive enclosures for my snakes, need to research their biomes and make progress on designs and equipment specifications

Also. Hit a seriously hard patch and haven't been handling them much at all this month so that's not great

Casting stuff. Saw jewelry today made of metal casts of claws, skulls, etc, and they were really well done and made me want to do that

Some taxidermy / vulture culture stuff I won't get into right now

Puzzles????

How to organize my room

Need a shower

Need to organize bathroom

So Much Schoolwork

Uhhhhh trying, but not making much headway, to figure out how I want to do my music collection. Also really need to clean my records..

Make?

Food??? Ew.

Dental hygiene ://

Plampts. So many. Houseplants need maintenance, many need repotting. Keep taking in people's problem plants and like, they're doing better, largely, after being trimmed and watered and whatnot, but need repotting. Also need to trim some aquarium plants.

Also need to put water in tanks. And spray nepenthes.

Laundry.

Gotta pick up trash in my room. There's so much. Everywhere. Why.

Schoolwork. I'm so behind. So, so stuck. Kind of feel like I'm dying.

Going on a picnic tomorrow. Have to figure out what still needs doing for that, probably need to go to the store.

Leo needs water. I'm so....ugh, I'm trying so hard, but it feels impossible. I do my best to take good care of my pets, and I think they live pretty good lives most of the time, but sometimes I get like This and completely drop off the face of the earth and then like, wake up or whatever and two weeks have passed by and I have not cleaned a water bowl! That's a serious problem!!!! I do not know how to combat that, really, besides more reminders. Having someone around who is willing to like, help, when things are especially hard, would be great, but I don't live with my partner right now and do not feel like I can ask anyone here for that. But I can't put my animals at risk. I check on them every day, and if their bowls are dirty I do take them out and clean them, but sometimes (like now) i cannot get myself to do it without a pressure like a dirty bowl, or a feeding day. And like, it's really important that they have clean water. I'm talking to myself here but like, if anyone has advice. Please. With the tank redesigns and upgrades, the bowls will be more accessible, which will help because one of them is very heavy at the angle I have to pick it up, and another requires moving a lot of branches and is best to take out while the snake is out (this is Leo) which is fine because I love my boy, but adds time to the process, and makes it harder to start, you know? Maybe if I just got more bowls - I could take the bowl out and immediately replace it, fill the new one, and replace the decor and snake, and then clean the bowl as a separate task? That would be easier for my brain. Currently I have a Specific bowl I prefer to use for each tank, and then everything else is Just In Case, but I mean. Acquiring extras is something I want to do anyway, and it may help with several problems, so. Yeah. I'll try that. But also, any other ideas, guys?

Anxiety: can't stop picking at my face, skin, nails, cuticles, scalp, pretty much everywhere with callouses, also scratched a mole off my face, which is something I've been trying Not to do for a while, so that's...not great. Can't find my earmuffs, and also all of my headphones are painful? Ears are really sensitive lately.

Been playing a lot of Moth Game (flutter: starlight if you wanna be friends say hey I don't know how to do it but would enjoy talking about moths if nothing else. The game is just like, an idle ish collecting game with cutesy versions of different species, and very little actual information, but it's still fun, and if anyone else is on there and also Into Moths like I am, hiiiii) and like it's fun and cute but also greatly impacting my productivity, and raises my stress levels during events, which is most days, so the game has. Not been helping. But I can't stop because then I'll miss Exclusive Moths.

Anyway. Had baklava and two mugs of Thai tea today and the sugar has made me nauseous.

Trying to journal. Hurts to write. Also takes too long. Also my handwriting is very bad. But typing is..not as good

Want to draw. Thinking about drawing cats

Plants again! Want to make seed bombs, have seeds, have most of the other ingredients, just need to put em together, basically.

Really sad :(

Or am I?

Weird noise coming from dining room?

Birds. Spent half an hour at least on the deck tonight listening to a hundred different bird calls (literally) to identify one I was hearing, it was a pine siskin, which I checked early on but the recording was bad and I didn't realize which call was identified. Anyway, cool to put a name to a face, so to speak.

Need to practice for ASL

So much.....to do...

Only had like >3 hours of work this week which was not great because money, but also like I'm really feeling those 3 hours....

My cat is basically refusing to come into my room? Which is very strange and I'm worried something is Off but cannot figure out what. Also means less cuddles which means I'm sad.

It feels strange whenever people follow me, the attention is nice but I have no idea what content y'all are here for. So to everyone: hi, enjoy, hope my random personal posts aren't a surprise to anyone who followed for like. News reblogs and informational stuff.

Do I even have it in me to..be successful in school? Should I drop out of college? I'm struggling really hard and do not feel like I'm building on the skills I need to continue, so like. Uh.

My dad is being. Abrasive.

Mom and grandma are very angry lately

Housemate is also angry, about things i thought we were on good terms about, so I am stressed because like,, are we okay?

Can't find my eye mask :(

Yoga? Like...restorative yoga? Need to track down my PT stuff. And. Do it.

Need to put the stickers on my license plates....oops...

Still haven't found my antidepressants! Yay!

Do I want to store my stuff in open bins, or with lids? Which stuff needs spill protection and stacking capability and which stuff needs easy access?

How to earn money without..chaos

Gotta go to the pet store tomorrow. Have to compile my list of pet store items i need. Uhhhhhhhhhh

Also I have an essay due tomorrow that I've barely started. So. Wooooooo

Kt tape for supporting arches / inner ankles? I keep messing up my ankles, and part of it is walking wrong because I don't have the energy to engage the muscles in my feet/legs right to like, avoid injury, and part of it is I just need new shoes inserts. But i wear slippers a lot and they do not have arch support and it hurts. PT to help with this also but Where Is It

Family can't seem to get dish soap I can use, so I've just been having to avoid washing anything by hand, or being in the general kitchen area while anyone uses the stuff, which has led to more of my dishes sitting out, and more conflict over dishes. Lovely.

How hard is it for parents to learn they have to respect boundaries? Very hard, apparently. And you're supposed to just sort of remind people, and explain, over and over and over but like at this point my self worth is actually pretty good and the lifetime of proof that they do not want to listen? That's making me want to stop trying. Like, if you're not going to respect my boundaries I'm just not going to involve you in my life. I'm not talking to my dad right now because of this. Maybe I'll decide to lay things out to him, again and again and again again, maybe not. And I'm comfortable saying that's on him.

How to drink water

Am I dehydrated or are my hands just completely callous now. My fingertips have such hard skin. Why? It's uncomfortable. This is part of why I've been biting them.

Also testosterone. Been having a lot of trouble doing my shots, because anxiety and physical freakouts, but also not feeling super urgent about it. Which I'm realizing may be a sign i need to look at the effects so far and the possible effects of continuing, and see what they make me feel. It's possible I'm where I want to be as far as T, and don't really want to stay on it. A big thing for me is a deeper voice, so it seems time to take a look at whether I like my voice where it is or want to see if it'll drop any more. Etc etc

Miss my lil sisters

Saw a lot of cool rocks today. Huge (like hand sized) ammonite for $28. May go back and buy one because. Wow.

Want to plant food plants

Also my natives. Whole garden plot standing empty with a bunch of stuff waiting in nursery pots, needing to go in the ground. Because I can't get out of bed. Love that. Stuff is dying out there, I'm dying in here, there's a poetry to it and I do not want to romanticize suffering so I will say this: I brought a Bucket full of moss home a month ago and planted it and now go outside sometimes to drench my moss and it is very rewarding because the stuff is just so green. Incredible. When the rest of my plants are finally in the ground, that feeling will only intensify. But, for now, the moss is very nice.

Made a glow in the dark bead lizard from memory during therapy yesterday, and I love him. Also, still struggling with bringing up autism and psychosis topics with my therapist. Still very worried about. Things. Would like to get a new person? But sometimes she is helpful? And we have a routine. It's very hard to break the routine. Maybe I can set some time aside during the summer, to figure out what to do there.

Term ends in a couple weeks. The task of catching up, of passing, seems impossible. I really need to pass my courses. I'm on academic warning, because my GPA is lower than it should be, and if I can pass all of my classes this term I can get off academic warning but otherwise I'm not sure what will happen to my financial aid.

My phone is playing the same 50-100 songs on shuffle and I don't even particularly like most of them and it is very strange

Got my face wipes! Hooray, i can wash my face again

Been eating too much sugar in general. It's making my joints hurt more, and the nausea

Pet a dog the other day. I miss that. It would be really nice to have a dog in the house again. The exuberance, the cuddles, the tail wagging, the walks... I'd really like that. Maybe once I'm out in my room, tanks and catio built and everyone is situated, I'll look into getting a dog instead of a cat next. Was planning on holding off in case I'm not physically able to take them out on walks and such, but I've been pretty successful at doing this job, and I think that my main hurdle for walking really is motivation. Dog walking is a strong motivator for me. Best to start by fostering, or just do Wag, for a while though. I'm feeling overwhelmed with my current responsibilities, and here I am talking about getting a dog. Good job, me

How do you get wax off of somewhat water soluble rocks? My housemate broke my lava lamp on some of my rock collection and I am not sure how to get some of them clean without damage.

I am...pretty sure there are collared doves nesting over my room but it seems they're less common around here than I thought? But they are..pretty distinctive. Like if I'm wrong, what are those birds. Some very distinctly colored feral pigeons? Who are nesting here, in a tree, without their flock, and who happen to have pretty much the exact same pattern?

Probably should go to the dollar store and get some bins for organizing

Been wanting to keep a bin by the door and stock it with stim/fidget stuff people can just .have ..like extras of some of my favorites and other things i can get ahold of, to offer to my friends who haven't really had the chance to explore the world of stim toys

Hands are really just not doing great the last several weeks. Arthritis type pain cropping up more and more in all the little joints, making it hurt more to write, type, or just use them for whatever. Coordination isn't great because of that distraction, and because my hands/arms are slow to respond and kinda weak. Most people would say I'm not using them enough but I've been doing 15ish hours of manual labor per week, so maybe it's the other direction? More water would help. If only it wasn't so heavy.

I haven't taken a single shower since I started my job. Which was March 29th. That's not great.

Practiced parallel parking today. 10/10 still very bad at it.

Having anxiety that my friends think I'm lying about things, faking, and are watching me to see if I'll slip up. So that sucks. Can either talk about that directly or indirectly, or just shut up about those things until I can get my brain under control again. I'm not sure right now if the reassurance would work as a reality check or make me believe it more, right now, so might hold off on the talking bit for a little while.

Saw, smelled, picked a couple pretty roses. Good times

At this point I'm just trying to list all my thoughts so that maybe I'll be able to sleep and not worry I'll forget

My mom has put her spider plant on the deck, and it has maybe five living leaves. I have no idea how she killed such a well established spider plant, the last time I saw it it was so happy. Did she stick it in a corner and forget to water it? Whatever happened, it is now in the Plant ER, so hopefully I'll be able to...help get it on the up and up again

Leo is such a pretty noodle. He's so pretty. He's posing. Hi, baby boy.

Oh, he saw me moving around and decided to come say hi. Sorry little man, i did not mean to disturb you. Please resume lounging. I can't bring you out right now, I'm trying to sleep.

Also, terrariums. Water features. Need to ask. Someone. The one who was making that super cool garter snake enclosure and blogging the progress? With the lazy river and pool? About maintenance on that kind of setup. My milk snake really enjoys water, and I'd love to put a water feature in his tank. But I'm unclear on how to keep it clean, or honestly where to start. Don't want any huge falls or anything, though it actually may not make the humidity too high if I did maybe a small drip wall into the pool? That seems like something he would enjoy, and a good way to support different types of plants. But like, that's the thing, it's bioactive and I haven't done that before and no amount of research is ever enough.

Oh, Shogun has a dirt hat. How cute. I love when they do that

See, this is the thing. My snakes make me so happy. All three of them are actually hanging out where I can see them from my bed right now, and it's really nice. I want their lives to be the best possible, and I think I have the resources to do that. Which is so exciting. Now if only my brain and body would cooperate. It would hurt quite a lot to have to re-home any of them, but the most important thing is their health and quality of life, you know? If I can't get my act together somewhat, it may be that one or all of them would be better off with another keeper. I don't know. It's just, i talk about all these tank ideas and all this husbandry standards stuff but how much of it actually gets applied to my own animals whose lives are in my hands? How well am I caring for them, really?

Oh!!! My red thread! I thought that was gone forever.

Anyway, please do not worry. My snakes are healthy. I pay attention, and watch for signs of illness, and they're okay. There will always be places to improve, and the water is a big one, but most of the time i change their water out frequently, I'm just worried because of bad depression and fatigue times, you know? I'm working on making the most self sustaining systems i can, in part so that I am sure they'll be okay if I mess up sometimes. Just saying this because I hope you guys don't feel like you need to worry about the welfare of my pets. They're okay, i just always want better for them, is all.

Anyway, the sun is coming up and I should probably go to sleep. So uh, thanks for reading, if you read all of this randomness, and if anyone has thoughts or advice on anything in this post, i would welcome it! Good night!

[dothwrites]

161 please??

---

google doth always taking prompts

161--Where did that cat come from?

---

The rainstorm starts when Dean pulls into the space outside the bunker’s door. It’ll be a pain in the ass to reverse and pull into the garage, plus he and Sam have a trunk full of groceries, so Dean just curses and puts the Impala into park before he gets out of the car. Water droplets start to pelt against the top of his head and the back of his neck as he loads as many bags on his wrists and arms as humanly possible. 

From there, it’s a quick trip down the bunker stairs. Sam follows behind, with a more modest amount of bags swinging from his hands. Dean walks quickly, cognizant of his struggling circulation, not to mention the unpleasant wind of a single bead of water down his spine. Their steps echo down the bunker stairs, which would alert Cas to their presence, even if the “Cas, we’re home!” didn’t. 

“Shut up,” Dean automatically says when he hears Sam’s poorly repressed snigger. 

“Needy much?” Sam does a faulty reproduction of Dean’s voice, making sure to give him a falsetto. “Cas, we’re home!” He continues to snicker as they make their way to the kitchen. “You’re about one step away from Lucy.” 

“Ok, first of all, it was Ricky Ricardo who said those lines and secondly--shut up.” Ok, so not the best comeback. Blame the rain and his screaming wrists and arms. Dean flushes and turns away from Sam as he lifts the groceries onto the counter with a quiet grunt. 

“Nice job, He-Man. Maybe next time you could try multiple trips?” 

“Go out? More than once? For groceries? Sam, it’s like you don’t even know me.” Dean starts unpacking the bags, pausing when he reaches a certain jar. “Cas! We’re in the kitchen!” 

On the opposite side of the kitchen, Sam starts to hum something that sounds like needy baby needy baby. Dean debates throwing a can of green beans at the back of his shaggy moose head. He settles for lobbing a poisonous glare at Sam’s head and not letting up until his brother turns around. 

“Hey, he dipped out on grocery shopping. The least he could do is come and help put the stuff away.” Plus Dean bought a jar of the good stuff for Cas, organic, comb in honey. It cost him an arm and a leg, but it’ll be worth it once he sees the pleased, shy smile spread across Cas’ face, which he can’t see until his boyfriend makes his way to the kitchen. 

Sam must catch sight of the honey because he lets out a very unflattering snort. Dean defensively scoops the honey out of sight. “It’s good for the environment,” he defends, despite the fact that he’s never recycled a day in his life. 

“Sure.” Sam really shouldn’t sound so smug, Mr. I Drink Kale Smoothies and Poop Compost. “Look, all I’m saying is that if my boyfriend had me that whipped, then I would at least own it.” 

“Your boyfriend would run away from your ugly face,” Dean snidely digs. Far from dissolving into a snotty mess, Sam just makes a very rude gesture involving use of a singular finger, and turns around to continue stocking the freezer with pizza rolls. 

The first sign of trouble is a singular sneeze. Dean shakes it off--it was raining outside, pollen is in the air, and the bunker that they live in was made by a bunch of old, dead guys, so there’s bound to be some dust. 

The second, third, and fourth sneezes come as more of a puzzle. 

Sam, ever the solicitous brother, raises an eyebrow. “You dying or what?” he asks. 

“Or what,” Dean wheezes, though his eyes are watery and itchy. A rattle starts in his throat as another sneeze rocks through his body. This is not normal. In fact, he only gets like this when...

Cas walks into the kitchen, wearing jeans and one of Dean’s hoodies that’s just a bit too big for him in the arms (though it stretches delightfully across his chest and shoulders). As soon as he crosses the threshold of the kitchen, as if on command, Dean sneezes. 

Through watery eyes, Dean squints at the suspicious bulge in the front of the hoodie pocket. Castiel casually shifts to the side to hide it, but it’s too late. Dean just saw something move. Cas might be happy to see him, but he’s nowhere near that happy. 

“Whatcha got there Cas?” He tries to make it clear from his tone that his question is not a polite request. 

It’s not every day that Dean gets to see a former angel of the Lord acting shifty, but that’s exactly what he gets to see as Cas tries to sidle his way out of the kitchen. “Cas,” Dean barks. Cas shuffles his feet as he plasters a very unconvincing look of innocence on his face. “What’s in your pocket?”

His facade of hardass suffers from the sneeze that rockets through his body, but it’s enough. Cas walks into the kitchen. Sam, intrigued by the drama, draws closer, but Dean’s eyes are focused on Cas’ hand as it dips into the hoodie pocket. 

Castiel withdraws his hand, holding his burden out for inspection. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees Sam’s mouth drop open in a paroxysm of delight (fucking softie). For his part, Dean greets the reveal with three consecutive sneezes, each one more violent than the last. 

“Cas,” Dean finally says, sniffling around his words, “where did that cat come from?” 

The cat in question can’t be much more than a kitten. It sits easily in Cas’ large hand. Luminous green eyes blink up slowly at him through a haze of black fur. As Dean watches, the kitten opens its mouth, revealing tiny sharp teeth and a pink tongue. A soft mew fills the space. 

Dean answers it with a sniffle. 

“I was out in the garden earlier today,” Cas begins. He doesn’t even have the good grace to look guilty as he pulls the kitten in close to his chest. Dean winces (that’s a hell of a lot of dander and fur that’s winding up on an article of clothing that still technically belongs to him) before he outright flinches as the kitten digs its claws into the fabric. Say goodbye to that particular hoodie. 

“It was just starting to rain and I found her.” Cas looks at him, all huge blue eyes and plaintive voice. “She was cold and shivering. I don’t think that she’d eaten for several days.” 

Great. Just great. Dean can already see where this is going and exactly what parts they’re all going to fall into. Cas, the crusader for justice and kindness, Sam, the well-intentioned supporter, and Dean, the cruel hand of logic. 

“Well, feed her, and then after the rain finishes we can take her to the shelter.” 

Next to him, Sam gasps. Cas’ mouth turns down in a stubborn frown. 

“Dean, the shelter is a kill shelter.” Sam’s voice sounds as scandalized as though Dean had suggested that they carpet bomb the whole town. 

“It’s a kitten. It’s cute. It’ll get adopted in like three seconds. I mean, it’s already got the two of you wrapped around its little dagger claws.” 

There’s something embarrassing about the soppy eyes that both Sam and Cas shoot towards the kitten. No angel should look that sickly sweet. 

“Dean, cats are fairly low maintenance,” Cas begins, which is exactly where Dean thought this talk was headed. 

“I have allergies!” Dean protests, to be met with unsympathetic looks from both his brother and his boyfriend. Traitors. “Plus, who’s going to take care of it when we go on hunts? We going to pay the neighbors to come over into our super secret bunker filled with satanic stuff?” 

Cas’ mouth flattens. “There are several establishments in town which cater to the boarding of pets.” Great. He’s already done research. “Also, many stores offer over the counter products designed to alleviate the symptoms of allergies.” 

Between Sam’s puppy eyes and Cas’ jutting lower lip, Dean feels his defenses wavering. “You’d better keep it away from my room. And if it starts pissing on the floors or tearing up the furniture, it’s out of here. And you’re,” he points to both Sam and Cas, “going to pay for my allergy meds. And you’re going to feed it and pay for all its stuff.” He’s never felt more like a dad than in that moment, lecturing his brother and boyfriend on the proper care of the cat. “This is your pet; I’m not going to take care of it!” 

Cas nods earnestly before he walks across the kitchen and kisses the bolt of his jaw, right in the sweet spot that always turns Dean weak in the knees. Bastard knows exactly how to play him. Dean turns his head to kiss Cas properly, ignoring Sam’s gagging noises in the background. Cas hums into the kiss, his teeth ghosting over Dean’s lower lip in a hint of a tease. 

Dean’s just ready to make it a proper kiss, Sam be damned, when he’s stabbed. Yelping in pain, he jumps backward, glaring at the tiny, cockblocking, ball of fluff still held in Cas’ hands. The kitten retracts the minuscule knives attached to its paws as it blinks innocently up at him.

“Oh, I think you must have squashed her,” Cas says, rubbing a finger underneath the kitten’s chin.

For its part, the kitten yawns at Dean before falling asleep. 

“Yeah,” Dean mutters, massaging at his wound (seriously, he’s bleeding and Sam is just laughing at him like an asshole). “Yeah, this is going to turn out swell.

(It comes to no one’s surprise, least of all Dean’s, when he goes to bed and finds not only Castiel, but the kitten curled up on his mattress. I said she’s not allowed on the bed, Dean tries, but the protest is weak at best, especially when Cas has decided to play dirty and is lying bare-chested with the sheet artfully draped over his waist. 

Well, I could take her back to my room, Cas murmurs, scooping up the kitten, and Dean’s going hellishly soft in his old age because he just says Over my dead body, before crawling over the mattress to where Cas waits. The kitten finds her way to the floor. 

In the morning, Dean wakes up with his nose running and his eyes gummy, due to the fucking cat who has decided to sleep less than a foot away from his face. The heated kiss that Cas gives him when he wakes up only partially helps to stop his bitching.)

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #462

i am way too tired to mentally flip through lyrics to put here, rip

Who in your family has been married the longest? (and how long?) I have zero idea. When did you last travel alone? Where were you going? The last time I visited Sara in Illinois. Do you take your shoes off when you come inside? Yes. What was the first color you ever dyed your hair? I think I got purple highlights? What was the first social media site you ever used? MySpace. Do you have any exes you really regret dating? One. Of all your friends & family, who has the most nicely-decorated home? Sara's house is lovely. Have you ever been catcalled? No. Are you allergic to any dogs? I might be. Have you ever touched a plant and had hives shoot up your arm? No. Do you think dragonflies are cool? Absolutely! What’s your favorite thing to draw? Meerkats!! Did you toss your hat in the air at graduation? Not high. I wanted to keep it. Do you like fudge? I CAN FUCKING DESTROY SOME FUDGE. Are you an affectionate person? Very. Name something you have to do today: Girt and I are hangin', making fun of bad Netflix anime and going to Buffalo Wild Wings. :^) Would you ever write to a death row inmate? No. People don't get on death row for no reason. I ain't got shit to say to them. Do you reckon online friendships are real? No fucking shit. Most of my most genuine friendships began online. Do you like Slipknot? Yep. Can we talk about how fuckin BADASS Corey's new mask is btw?????????? What do you think of Gorillaz? I like "Feel Good Inc." and one other song I can't remember the name of. Bow ties on guys, dorky or adorable? BOTH!!!!! :') What is the cutest Halloween costume for a baby to wear? GUYS I recently saw a picture of a little baby dressed up as a Little Oogie Boogie and it made my ovaries cry. Which of your friends is the tallest? Which of them is the shortest? Jesus, Girt is a giant. I don't know about my shortest... If you could re-paint your bedroom, what color would you choose? Pastel pink. :') What has been the best night of your life so far? Why? Probably something sexual so let's keep it on the down low lmfaooo Would you ever even think about taking part in a wet t-shirt contest? Uh, no. Even if I WAS confident in my body. Is you hair color the same as it was when you were a baby? No. It was dirty blonde. Have you ever been in trouble for being too loud? Ha, yeah, at school with friends. Not big trouble or anything, we were just hushed. Did you ever attend a wedding that was a complete disaster? No. What is something that you were surprised you were able to do? Hm. What is the most bullshit-sounding true fact that you know? Male cats have spiked penises lkasdjfal;kje;kjwr it's something to do with preventing other tomcats from mating with her. What Oreo flavor is your favorite? Gimme that Double Stuffed, friend. Sour gummy worms or plain gummy worms? SOUR. Ever been in a talent show? How many times? What did you do? Nope. Ever try out for the talent show and not make it? Did you cry? Nope. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever cried about? Y'all when I was a very little kid, during my older sister's b-day party, I sobbed because I couldn't pin the tail properly on the donkey lmaoooo How do you feel about the use of nuclear weapons? Absolutely fucking barbaric. What song has the most meaning to you? "Life Won't Wait" by Ozzy Osbourne. What is your favourite dinosaur? Spinosaurus!!!! :') Have you ever made bread? No. Has anything ever fallen asleep on you? Pets, a baby I was watching after, and Jason. Ever been dominated in a game you were/are really good at? yep alskdjfla;jwej Have you ever decided to set fire to something out of anger? No. Would you rather be a house pet or a wild animal? Wild animal, I guess? Have you ever listened to a group of chanting monks? I haven't. If you had to get a portrait tattoo, who would it be of? Probably of Teddy. I've still yet to decide on the total design of his tribute tat I'm getting. Do you like the smell of men’s colognes better than woman’s perfumes? I think so, yeah. How mad would you be if someone copied your original work (story, poem)? I'd be pretty fuckin pissed. Have you ever blown something up in science class? Ha, no. Have you ever gotten a serious wound from shaving? Not serious, no. Have you invented anything, only to find out it actually exists? I feel like I have? Ever realize you never truly LOVED your first love? Absolutely not. I loved him. Would you want a Bachelor/Bachelorette party before you get married? Sure, sounds fun. Do you prefer pads, tampons or something else? As of very recently, I returned to using pads. I used tampons for most of my maturity, but I got annoyed with them for TMI reasons and resorted back to pads, even though I don't like them either. Have you ever dated a model? No. What is your ultimate goal in life? To die happy with my life and what I (hopefully) accomplished. What colour are the socks you’re wearing today? I’m not wearing any. Who was the last person you sent a Facebook message to and what did you say? Girt. It was something regarding how I once considered doing the suicide mission at BWW where you eat a select number of their hottest wings, but I didn't wanna die via chicken. :^) Are you tall, short or average? Would you change this? I'm average in height. I wouldn't change it, nah. Especially now that Girt and I are together the ridiculous height difference is hilarious but also cute lmao. Have you ever worked in a store while someone shoplifted there? Like, while I was there? No. Have you ever had casual sex? Nahhhh. What’s your favourite flavour of frosting? Chocolate. @_@ When you think of your childhood, are the memories mostly happy or sad? Mostly happy, I guess. What is it like being you? Is it enjoyable? It's very boring with few sources of joy. What are your thoughts on the cause of homosexuality? I would *assume* it's a genetic mutation. Reason being, having a romantic partnership without the ability to reproduce defies the motives of science. There is nothing, absolutely NOTHING, wrong with said (and hypothetical) genetic mutation, though. Mutations are just another part of science. They occur naturally. What subjects did you find most interesting in school? Least? Most interesting: literature/English (especially reading like, old mythology and epics and stuff like that), LOTS of branches of science (but primarily genetics), art, and I looooved my four semesters of German. Least: ANY and ALL math, history, economics, social studies... that kind of stuff. Which do you enjoy more–hot or cold beverages? Cold, for sure. What were some of your favorite bands from childhood? Green Day was one. Would you be more afraid of drowning or being buried alive? Buried alive, for sure. It would be much, much slower. Should you really be doing something more productive right now? Well, I SHOULD be sleeping. Today's going to be a long day, because when Girt comes over, he has a tendency to not leave until like fuckin midnight or later alksdjfl;waje Have you ever lived out of your car? No. Does your family own more than two houses? HUNNY we r poor. A relative just committed a very serious crime, do you turn them in? It depends on the exact crime, but odds are, yes. If you're endangering others, byyyyeeee. You’re in the woods, alone, at night…are you honestly not afraid? Bitch I'm terrified. I have zero survival skills. You are on life support, what would you want a loved one to do about it? For the love of god, please kill me. Your child has only a while to live, do you still enroll them in school? That would be up to them. Also, define "a while." How would you feel if you met your idol and they ended up being rude? WELP I have a tattoo in his honor so that would suck ass lmao According to the tale, was Eve wrong for eating and sharing the apple? "God was wrong for even setting up an apple tree and making up rules in the first place." <<<< There ya go. And the punishment was fucking ludicrously extreme. Are you working on any goals? Yes. I'm currently going to the gym regularly to try and better my physical health and then find a job. I know that being connected sounds odd, but trust me: I can barely carry out very simple tasks just because I have absolutely ZERO stamina to do almost anything. I need energy and endurance. I'm also working towards developing some self-love. Which parent named you? I wanna say my mom. Are you currently frustrated with someone? I mean, myself. Aforementioned self-love is hard. I'm just annoyed my head is so reluctant to accept that I'm not a piece of shit for a million reasons. Why have most of your past relationships ended? They all ended for different reasons, really. Are you having any online conversations, currently? I'm not. What’s on your mind? I'm just tired and going back to bed real soon. Have you ever had an argument with a teacher? No.

[jadelotusflower]

June 2021 Roundup

It's been a month of highs and lows. Every year my city holds a cabaret festival, and I've seen some truly amazing acts over the years - including Lea Salonga, Kristin Chenoweth, and Indina Menzel. This year's Artistic Director was the great Alan Cumming, and although due to covid he didn't quite get to curate the program he wanted to, the opening night Gala was still a highlight, as was Alan's DJ set at the pop-up Club Cumming afterwards, where there was much singing at the top of my lungs and dancing to pop anthems and theatre tunes. At one point Alan, dressed in a onesie and perched on the shoulders of a man wearing only sparkly short shorts, was carried around the dance floor while Circle of Life blared. Reader, I was delighted.

I was also able to see his solo show Alan Cumming Is Not Acting His Age, which was hilarious and damn, he can sing!

As for the low, I was meant to fly to Sydney for the weekend to see Hamilton, a trip I have been looking forward to for almost a year, but had to be cancelled because of a covid outbreak and border closures. The tickets have been rescheduled, but I'm still kind of bummed about it (while completely appreciating the need for covid safety, especially when our vaccine rollout has been completely botched by our incompetent, corrupt federal government)

Anyway.

Reading

The Hundred and One Dalmations (Dodie Smith) - With all the bewilderment over Disney's Cruella, I decided to revisit the original novel which I first read as a kid. It's funny, I had very vivid memories of this book, or rather thought I did, particularly the scene where Roger and Anita have dinner at Cruella's house that fixed in my young mind as utterly disturbing with all this devil imagery and the implication Cruella was literally some kind of demon, which must have been either a) my overactive imagination or b) an illustration, because it's not as clear as I thought it was. The strangeness is there (food with too much pepper, Cruella's inability to keep warm, the walls painted blood red) but not the explicit demon imagery I had remembered. There is a part later in the book recounting the history of Hell Hall and the rumors of Cruella's ancestor streaking out of the place conjuring blue lightening, but clearly child me was reading far more into the book than was on the page.

But I still wish they'd gone with this version of Cruella's backstory, because to me an aristocratic, ink-drinking, heat-obsessed, possibly-demon spawn, high camp villain is more interesting and rings far more true than plucky punk against the establishment.

Smith clearly had Facts About Dalmations to share, and she does really craft a wonderful animal-based story that the Disney animated film is largely faithful to. Key differences include: Roger's occupation (he doesn't have to pay tax because he wiped out government debt somehow?!?), Pongo's mate and the puppy's mother is called Missis, Perdita is another dalmation who acts as a kind of doggie wet nurse, Roger and Anita both have Nannies who come to live with them (Nanny Butler and Nanny Cook), Cruella is married to a furrier (who changed his last name to de Vil). Also odd, on her first description Cruella is described as having "dark skin" but later in the novel her "white face" is mentioned, so I'm chalking it up to 50's descriptors not having the same meanings they do today.

The Duke and I (Julia Quinn) - After being just whelmed by the tv series, I wasn't really planning on reading the books, but I saw this on the top picks shelf at the library and damn, the top picks shelf is irresistible. This is very much Daphne's book (and I had known each in the series dealt with the different sibling) so many of the characters and much of the plot of the show is absent, as are some of the more baffling elements of the show like the Diamond of the First Water nonsense, which I always thought was a strange character choice in that it stacks the deck for Daphne when her character arc is better served as somewhat of an underdog (in her third season, the kind of girl who is liked but not adored), and the Prince subplot which was always far too OTT even for soapy regency romance.

It's a breezy, fun read (that scene excepted), even if the misunderstandings are contrived and I'm never going to take "I'll never have kids because I hate my dad" as a credible romantic obstacle deserving of so much angst.

Faeries (Brian Froud and Alan Lee) - A lovingly detailed and illustrated compendium of Faerie and its inhabitants, drawing from a range of European (but primarily Celtic) folklore and mythology. Froud was a conceptual designer on The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth, and the link is clear in the art as well as the focus on faeries as mysterious but oftimes sinister beings, where human encounters with them rarely end well. Lee has illustrated several publications of Tolkien's novels, and was a lead concept artists for Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings and Hobbit trilogies, and there is a touch of Middle Earth here as well, or rather the common inspiration of the old world. A useful resource for my novel!

Watching

The Handmaid's Tale (season 4, episodes 4-8) SPOILERS - So when I last wrote about this show in the Roundup, I was complaining it wasn't going anywhere. Well, I'm happy to be wrong because they finally changed things up with June finally escaping to Canada. That part of the plot following the survivors and their trauma has always been far more compelling than Gilead, and so it was a welcome development even if I side-eye some of the choices (none of these characters is seeing an actual licensed therapist why?).

This show has always been difficult to watch given the subject matter, and that has not changed after the shift in power dynamics. I will give the show credit for showing a broad range of trauma responses, from Moira wanting to move on and not let it consume her, to June, a ball of rage and revenge on a downward spiral, to Emily, trying to follow Moira's path but being drawn to June's, to Luke, trying his best but utterly unequipped to deal with what is happening.

But it is very hard to watch June go down this path - raping her husband (I concede the show perhaps didn't intend for it to be rape, but that's what is on screen and framing it as just "taking away Luke's agency" doesn't change that), wishing death on Serena's unborn child, and orchestrating Fred's brutal murder by particulation, then holding her own daughter still covered in his blood and it getting smeared on Nicole's face (an unsubtle metaphor in a series full of unsubtle metaphors).

There are interesting questions being asked of the viewer, and the show (perhaps rightly) not giving any answers. I can certainly appreciate the catharsis of Fred getting what he deserves even if I personally find the manner of it horrifying, but where is the line between justice and revenge, is revenge the only option when justice is denied, when does a trauma release become cyclical violence/abuse - the show is, for now, letting the viewer decide.

Soul (dir. Pete Docter and Kemp Powers) - In a world full of remakes/reboots/sequels, Pixar is perhaps the lone segment under the Disney umbrella committed to original content. However, there does seem to be a Pixar formula at work directed to precision tugging the heart strings, and some of the film feels like well-trod ground. On the other hand, it's hard to criticise the risk of centering a kids film around the existential crisis of a middle aged man, even with the requisite cutesy elements (and of course, the uncomfortable pattern of yet another film where the black lead character spends a great deal of the runtime in non-human form - herein, an amorphous blob or a cat). But the animation is stunning, it successfully did tug my heart strings, and the design of the Great Before and the Jerrys is original and fun.

RuPaul's Drag Race Down Under - Drag Race is somewhat of a guilty pleasure for me, since I generally don't watch reality shows, and this is something I really enjoy even if I'm not invested in the fandom (which like many fandoms can be very yikes). This year it was time for the Australian/New Zealand (Aotearoa) queens to show their stuff, although it's been met with mixed reactions. Covid restrictions didn't allow for guest judges, relegating them to mere cameos via video calls, and its clear that Ru and Michelle really don't quite get all the cultural nuances - Aussie judge Rhys Nicholson was however always delightful. But it wouldn't be Australia without a racism scandal, with the great disappointment of the two queens of colour eliminated first, and one queen having done blackface in the recent past yet making it all the way to the top four.

In the end, the only viable and deserving winner was last Kiwi standing Kita Mean, and it was pure joy to see her get crowned. I do hope they fix the bugs and indeed do another season to better showcase AU/NZ talent.

Writing

A far more productive month - to try and get out of my writing funk I had a goal to try and write every day, even if it was only 100 words. While I didn't quite achieve a consecutive month, I did get a pretty good average, at least got something posted and two others nearly there.

The Lady of the Lake - 2441 words, Chapter 4 posted.

Against the Dying of the Light - 2745 words

Turn Your Face to the Sun - 1752 words.

Here I Go Again - 1144 words

Total words this month: 8082

Total words this year: 35,551

[ducktracy]

186. september in the rain (1937)

disclaimer: this review contains racist content and imagery. i do not condone any of this content whatsoever—it’s being displayed purely for educational and historical reasons. with that said, i have much to learn myself. PLEASE let me know if i say something wrong or offensive. it’s never my intention to do so, yet i want to learn from my mistakes and own up to them provided that should happen. thank you for your patience and understanding.

release date: december 18th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: james c. morton (various), danny webb (various), wini shaw (blue dye bottle, morton salt girl), mel blanc (louis armstrong’s speaking voice)

(original title card courtesy of jerry beck.)

the final cartoon of 1937 is an interesting one: it’s the shortest cartoon in the WB library, with a runtime of about 5 minutes and 50 seconds. when the cartoon aired on TV in the ‘90s, the blackface caricatures were cut, further shortening the runtime to about 3-4 minutes. not only that, but a bulk of the animation is recycled from previous cartoons, such as how do i know it’s sunday? and clean pastures—both freleng entries.

like we’ve seen from many a cartoon before, this short chronicles the adventures of store products coming to life and putting on various acts.

open to the interior of a store on a rainy night (hence the title), the eponymous song underscoring the scene. the camera pans right, closing into a bottle of blueing singing “am i blue?”.

the gags, at least in the first half, are relatively disjointed: immediately after the blueing sequence, a snake charmer prompts a bottle of toothpaste to squirt out a strand of toothpaste and wave in the air like a snake. little time is wasted cutting to a can of searchlight (salmon), a searchlight on the can’s label sparking to life for a full 3 seconds before moving onto the next gag: maids from “old maid cleanser” doing a dance, a gag repurposed from how do i know it’s sunday?

a loose precursor to the camel’s breakdown in porky in egypt (which is much more thrilling than what is presented here), a rubber glove comes to life, inflating itself and serving as a makeshift pair of bagpipes, accompanying a line of camels strutting along on the camel cigarettes logo. reused from freleng’s 1935 entry flowers for madame, two dandelions perform the highland fling along to the music. 

wipe to a bunch of apples, where a worm pokes its head out from a hole and tentatively crawls along. stalling’s bumpkin score of “in the shade of the old apple tree” is fitting and fun to listen to, as are treg brown’s sound effects of the worm inching its way along. however, bad news for the worm: a line of hungry chicks plastered on the bon ami powder cans (here labeled “my am i”) pursue the worm, who flees like he’s never fleed before. stalling’s score is masterful, the score morphing into a flurry of excitement as the chicks all gang up on the worm. one of the chicks manages to swallow the worm, who thus is thrown about and inches along like the worm as it struggles to be freed. finally, the worm manages to separate itself from the chick, and hurries back into an apple for safety. while nothing new, stalling’s music score manages to breathe some life into a tired scene.

the next scene is directly reused from how do i know it’s sunday, just with different vocals: the morton salt girl and the u-needa biscuit boy sing a duet together beneath the “rain” from the shredded wheat box’s waterfall. if anything, it’s interesting to see old footage now colorized.

cue the barrage of blackface caricatures: the al jolson caricature from clean pastures sings the title song--the jolson way, of course. the premise of jolson singing this song would be reused in future cartoons, such as the grand finale to 1941′s porky’s preview. he and aunt emma (a parody of aunt jemima) engage in the whole “sonny boy” shtick--i suppose if anything, subtle movements on jolson such as the head tilts bring a nice feeling of depth and construction to him (i wonder if this is the work of bob mckimson?), but the entire sequence is merely too gross and uncomfortable for it to have any merit. jolson finishes the performance by singing “good evening, frieeeeends!”, an opening/closing line that he sung on his radio show shell chateu. daffy would borrow this as late as 1950, closing out his own rendition of “the merry go round broke down” in bob mckimson’s boobs in the woods.

caricatures of fred astaire and ginger rogers dance together to a perky waltz rendition of “september in the rain” as an interlude. the animation is rotoscoped, and therefore quite elegant, though i do wish they had attempted to push the caricatures just a bit more, especially when the two of them begin their tap dance routine--the graceful, realistic human designs fit well with the waltz, but seem a bit out of place with the mood shift brought on by the ending tap dance. nevertheless, props to carl stalling for finding a way to turn the title song into a waltz. his music is the highlight of the cartoon.

 (friz freleng’s september in the rain on the left, 1937, bob clampett’s 1943 tin pan alley cats on the right.)

fats waller and louis armstrong (whose caricatures are reused from clean pastures) don a box labeled “gold rust twins”, a parody of fairbank’s gold dust washing powder (warning for blackface with the link). mel blanc voice’s louis’ cry of “SWING IT, BROTHER!” cue an admittedly rousing rendition of “nagasaki”, with fats waller on the piano and louis on the vocals. the animation of waller playing the piano would be directly reused in bob clampett’s tin pan alley cats in 1943, proving to be a rather anachronistic caricature in comparison to the more streamlined--yet equally offensive--caricatures brought on in that cartoon.

though the entire sequence is gross and uncomfortable, the energy it possesses is much needed in comparison to the rest of the cartoon. it feels much more on par with the energy in clean pastures. ken harris does some great smear animation of two chickens angrily bobbing their heads to the music, and the animation of aunt emma dancing to the music is snappy and jaunty. all of this is being analyzed from a technical standpoint--good animation does NOT make the caricatures or content being animated any more okay, but the techniques put into conveying the animation do constitute some recognition. at the very least, here, it feels as though freleng actually has his heart in the cartoon. the rest of it, not so much.

the sequence draws to a close, as does the cartoon: we do one last pan across the shop, trucking in to the shop’s window, revealing the rain pouring in the night sky. iris out.

this cartoon is not one of freleng’s stellar entries, even without all of the disgusting caricatures. if anything, this is more of an obligation than a cartoon, something to please the boss with song and dance numbers and tired gags that have been antiquated since the mid ‘30s. reprehensible as the caricatures are, the “nagasaki” number at the end was admittedly the short’s highlight. the animation is snappy, fun, energetic, and stalling’s score is infectiously energetic. however, that doesn’t redeem any of the content being animated, or the short in total for that matter. you are not missing anything by skipping this entry.

but, despite such a sour end to a great year, 1937 has been a GREAT year for WB, undeniably the best year of cartoons thus far. the acquisition of mel blanc was the turning point. porky is finally growing some personality and is able to display it, more and more notable characters (such as daffy and even elmer, despite being a prototype) are popping up, the directors are all feeding off of each other and competing to put out funnier cartoons, etc. this is the year where the tunes become truly loony. and 1938 is even better! porky and daffy become an established duo, tex avery hits the sweet spot with his cartoons, chuck jones becomes a director of his own... there’s much to look forward to. we’re only just getting started!

as per tradition, here’s a link to the cartoon--obviously view this with discretion.

[yanderedbh-moved]

The Yanderes + Fluff Scenarios

The third installment of this little series, I guess I have now of the yanderes in typical fanfiction tropes. 

Smut

H/C

Connor

While it may be tricky for him to grasp the concept of personal hobbies (as in performing tasks with no real tangible pay off or goal in mind.) He experiences a very wholesome and heartwarming sense of pride from watching you doing what you love. In your element and feeling so free.

Connor experiencing the charming sense of alarm one typically feels when fostering a crush for another. Worrying if you secretly knew but weren’t telling him, would you lead him on, were you personally seeing someone else right now, etc.

Though it might seem small, Connor enjoys leaving the house every now and then to just get a pleasant walk in to see his home city while not on the clock. It’s a considerably understated freedom the android only learned to appreciate once he was granted the choice to do so himself.

Markus

It’s pretty commonly accepted at this point Markus loves reading, for so many reasons. For one thing, it reminds him of his home and of his father figure who possessed a vast array of different books of great diversity. As well as the pure pleasure of enjoying a little alone time away from the noise of the outside world.

In a relationship, Markus would be an excellent partner when it comes to empowerment! He would absolutely want to teach you different ways to defend yourself and would want to ensure you had the skills and know-how to keep yourself safe out there.

Also isn’t above using the fact he’s the leader of Jericho to his advantage. As in, if he knows you’re having issues with someone in your life, and it’s causing you to feel unsafe and on edge, he would ensure this person knew just who they were messing with, along with sending the message to back off.

Kara

Once the two of you finally manage to find a stable life for yourselves, and Alice Kara would finally receive the chance for fun, inconsequential domestic life, she never had the opportunity to live out before.

Kara really enjoys having a human partner far more than she ever expected to! For so many reasons, but a personal favorite of hers is keeping you company in the final few moments before you fall asleep. It’s just the two of you, and you’re mind’s practically shut off, and she really enjoys the way you so completely relax into her.

Alice is shown to enjoy drawing and art, so you can imagine once she actually lives in a comfortable, stable environment, she feels much more comfortable expressing herself. Kara loves to keep her child’s drawing as keepsakes and is something of a hoarder when it comes to pictures Alice draws of the three of you.

Hank

It’s tricky at the start, but you do your best to get Hank out of the house more. To try and urge him to move on, to fall back in love with life, promising him you’ll be by his side every step of the way.

Furthermore, when you actually do get around to moving in with Hank, there’s a kind of an inexpressible breath of life he feels. Like for the first time in so long, this place actually feels like a home again, and not just where he lives.

Mushy, ultra-sweet romance isn’t precisely Hank’s style, but he would still find other little ways to make you feel loved. He’s more the one to use endearing sarcasm or an affectionate nickname to express his real emotions.

Luther

Imagine having to try and lift yourself all the way up to your tiptoes to get a kiss on the cheek from him. While he could always just lean down and help you out, he thinks it’s kind of cute to watch you try so hard.

He likes to be in bed with you, to make you feel close and held while you’re getting your rest. While physically, he may not need the sleep, keeping you close, wishing this moment won’t ever end is profoundly therapeutic for Luther.

North

Small acts of kindness and taking care of North in little ways may not feel like much to the outside observer, however, considering she’s never received treatment so gentle and sweet from anyone else in her life? Yeah, it’s more than enough to leave her feeling beyond blessed.

Imagine an intense moment with North. The two of you are working in a group, and the stress of it all is rising. She’s doing her best to keep composure, but she slips up and accidentally refers to you by a silly nickname she gave you, and you can’t help but crack up a little bit, despite the situation.

When it comes to dating North, it’s essential to have a bit of a thick skin. When she first begins to develop feelings for you, she might feel overwhelmed and confused by her own emotions and say something hurtful to try and keep you at a distance. Later on though, when she feels more comfortable opening up to you, North would definitely apologize for this and regret this mistake severely.

Simon

So much long-distance pining! About a fifty-fifty split between Simon being an absolute mess of emotions, along with him wondering how in the world he’s ever going to muster up the courage to confess to you.

It’s pretty critical not to rush him or anything here. At the best of times, Simon can be a bit stressed out, and maybe a little high strung. Even though he genuinely cares about you, it’s important to respect his space and understand that he needs a little patience on your end.

(This is debatable, but I think it adds up.) Simon is the android with maybe the most extended history with humans, and because of that has gathered a great deal of information via observation. He knows how to treat humans gently and is a much better kisser than he would let on.

Josh

In his darker, more pessimistic moments, there are times when Josh wonders if there’s really any hope for a future in which humans and androids live together in peace. In times like this, he really needs you as the little positive voice he can relly on to assure him there’s still hope and time to find peace and love between androids and humans.

Now that androids are granted far more space to exist freely of their own volition Josh rather enjoys taking you out on a quiet little one on one date. It’s nice to see the city how it was meant to be seen, and there’s no one he would rather share this with than you.

Much like his leader, when Josh has the free time to spend, Josh is something of a bookworm. However, for him, it’s much more a chance to explore a new hobby he’s no experience with, rather than to re-capture memories of the past. (Also he has a soft spot for romance novels, fight me.)

Kamski

(This one is up for debate, but...) Kamski gives off the vibes of someone who could kill at chess. It could be a fun little game between the two of you, to see if one day you could beat him, but he’s been playing since he was a child, so chances are slim, to say the least.

He’s productive and innovative to a fault, and he would really relly on you to look out for him and his health. Or, in other words, to drag him to bed and keep him from completely wrecking his sleep schedule in the name of progress.

Even though it’s rather common for him to leave the house in the name of giving an interview, a speech or a lecture hall, or something of the sort, Kamski would understand if you were the kind of person to prefer to stay home, or otherwise out of the spotlight.

Chloe

One thing which never fails to make Chloe feel better is playing with your hair, on the condition you do the same with her later. Also, bonus points if you agree to take pictures with her afterward.

She’s beyond sensitive to others' emotions, especially to yours, and there’s just something about your smile and your laugh, which sticks with her. It’s infectious to her, and she can’t get enough.

If she finds you’ve fallen asleep somewhere, Chloe really loves to just curl up and sleep next to you like a cat.

Gavin

He’s really the one to pretend to fall asleep if the two of you were cuddling either in bed or on the couch because he loves whenever you tuck him in and kiss his head goodnight. It’s something he likely never received growing up, and it means a lot to him to get that now.

The first time you ever see him all cleaned up and in beautiful clothes is more than a little shocking to you, and it’s difficult not to stare upon seeing him actually putting forth and effort.

Ralph

It doesn’t matter if you’ve only been gone for a couple hours, or for the entire day, when you come back, Ralph is always there to greet you at the door, ready to welcome you back, with the ecstatic energy of a puppy.

A quiet, but deeply profound moment Ralph has when he realizes he doesn’t actually want to live all alone, and that he genuinely finds happiness sharing his space with a human. There’s more to life than hiding.

You assure him that you think he looks exactly perfect just the way he is. There’s no need for him to try and “fix” the way he looks, and in your eyes, there’s no reason for him to feel lesser, or inadequate in any way.

Daniel

Embracing shamelessly “childish” activities with him. Things like decorating the house for holidays, cleaning games, arts and crafts, that sort of thing. It might appear silly on the surface, but to Daniel, it’s some of the few happy memories he has of his old life.

When Daniel decides to commit to a serious, loving relationship with you, Daniel is making a legitimate commitment here. He is actively choosing to embrace his emotions, and not to try and run away from them,

At his worst, Daniel can be very high strung and impulsive, so you must know plenty of de-stress activities to keep him under control.

Nines

Nines absolutely struggle with the initial symptoms of lovesickness. He grapples with worrying if you’ll ever love him back, or worse, that you wouldn’t even consider loving something which was designed to serve a strictly utilitarian purpose.

To his surprise, there’s a little bit of satisfaction Nines feels upon experiencing things like longing and tenderness. There is something to be said for experiencing these abstract emotions in any regard, considering how contrary to his programming they are.

Nines possesses a very strong memory and is one of the best you’ll ever meet. Those two factors together result in an android who knows basically everyone’s business, and who is very difficult to keep secrets from.

Buy Me a Ko-Fi // Requests are Open

[chapitre7]

The heart at the tip of a brush

The Untamed [陈情令] | Mo Dao Zu Shi [魔道祖师] fanfiction

Lan Zhan | Lan Wangji/Wei Ying | Wei Wuxian (Wangxian)

College / Drama Club AU

Read on AO3

Mo Xuanyu had always been their make-up artist. Lan Zhan had always been in charge of the costumes, ever since Wei Ying found the sketchbook where he kept the designs he came up with in the hours between sleep and homework, when he allowed himself to flounder the wings of his imagination. Embarrassed as he was of his hobby, he didn’t even know why he had carried the sketchbook with him that day (maybe confused it with his regular notebooks?), but after the initial shock of being discovered, he had relented to Wei Ying’s cries and pleadings and had agreed to be the last member in his brand new drama club. What set them apart, Wei Ying had told him with exaggerated gallantry, was that they’d write their own plays and enact them, instead of somebody else’s. Pretty big talk for someone who wouldn’t actually do the writing, Jiang Cheng barked, but he still joined the club anyway, the flair for the dramatic flowing in his veins as much as it did in Wei Ying’s; truly brothers, no matter the blood ties and several other differences between them.

 So the club started then, each one of them being responsible for too many things and also not much at all, in those early days of chaotic planning, until they gathered more members and set a clear goal in mind: the school festival. It was an embarrassment, as school projects often were, but Wei Ying’s joy at seeing all of their work fulfilled in an hour of glory (“What glory? MianMian forgot her lines and ruined my impeccable script, Brother Wei! It won’t do, it really won’t do!”) somehow emboldened them to try harder and strive higher. So, at Wen Ning’s suggestion, on their second year, they started enacting plays at the local orphanage. The reward of the kids’ starstruck faces fed them better than any feast, and so they continued, every year, sometimes twice a year, all the way till college.

 With such responsibility on their shoulders, it was natural for everyone to get pumped up, even going so far as to enlist some of their family members to lend their hands. Such as Lan Zhan sewing all of their costumes with his brother’s help, who had an eye for subtle details that Lan Zhan treasured, as he always did with all of his brother’s inputs throughout his life. Along with elder brother Lan came Meng Yao, who enriched Nie Huaisang’s scripts with twists and turns that made the fan-wielding boy think up even wilder twists and turns that Wei Ying’s creative mind ate up like his favorite spicy pumpkin-flavored cookies from the local coffee shop (that literally nobody but him liked). Jiang Cheng was their lead actor, Luo Qingyang, stage name MianMian, their lead actress, and everybody did a little bit of acting, even if they had no lines, as was often the case with Lan Zhan (at Wei Ying’s request).

 And Mo Xuanyu was in charge of their make-up.

 Not Lan Zhan.

 Never Lan Zhan.

 Yet there he is, covering for the sick man, standing in front of a smiling Wei Ying, who looks every bit like the evil sorcerer that they had perfected through the years, while Nie Huaisang, the second-best make-up artist of their little rogue troupe, frenzies over MianMian.

 “Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, the gentle tone of his voice coloring his name, holding the familiar hint of apology that he often uses when he drags Lan Zhan to adventures his friend doesn’t appreciate as much as Wei Ying had anticipated. “It’s really not that difficult. It’s not too different from coloring your designs, and you’ve seen the end results. This is nothing your brilliant, talented hands can’t handle!”

 Flattery could get him anywhere as long as Lan Zhan was involved, but the young man still swallows down around the anxiety that has installed itself at his stomach like acid, not having much to do with being able to pull off a decent make-up job and everything to do with leaning over Wei Ying and painting on him like a canvas.

 Unaware of the not-so-honorable battle that Lan Zhan fights against himself, Wei Ying places the eyeshadow palette in Lan Zhan’s palm and leans against the back of the chair, tilting his face up. It’s so innocent, so trusting and professional, and Lan Zhan leans over him for a brief second before remembering he’s not holding any brushes. How surprised would everyone be if Lan Zhan simply bolted out of the modest, well-lit bedroom that they used as a dressing room and screamed in the backyard full of children waiting for the play to begin? He can’t even process the mental image, but knowing that it’s impossible seems to ground him.

 Firmly holding a brush in his hand, Lan Zhan swallows again — doesn’t scream —, inhales, and sets himself to work.

 It really isn’t so difficult once he begins. He knows exactly what color Mo Xuanyu uses on Wei Ying, so accustomed he is to seeing his friend play the fearsome Yiling Patriarch. It’s a highlight of red on the crease of his eyes, to give him a sharper look, scheming and compelling at the same time. Lan Zhan uses his own thumb to smudge the same red on his eyelids, just a tiny bit, just a brush of color, a gradient of red that matches up with the color scheme that Lan Zhan set up for his character a long time ago, which was really just a fantasy take on Wei Ying’s own style.

 With a thin brush, he sets to draw a perfect black contour on Wei Ying’s lash line, for when he opens his eyes, he needs him to look as if he could transmutate into a cat at any given moment, so round and marble-like those brown eyes look then, mesmerizing the audience.

 Satisfied with his job on his eyes, Lan Zhan sparkles a peach color on his cheeks so he looks healthy and ready to gobble up misbehaving children. And then his lips...

 He curses Mo Xuanyu and his food poisoning, and then he mentally apologizes. All those years in high school trying to ignore just how pretty Wei Ying is as he tried to get Lan Zhan’s attention, how pretty he even was when he was asleep and drooling on Lan Zhan’s dinner table where they were supposed to brainstorm the theme of their next play. Years of trying not to betray the honesty of their friendship, because he could spend forever watching the endless capability Wei Ying’s ideas, and he liked being included in his group, doing something that he had been curious about but ignoring for the sake of his academic success, until Wei Ying taught him that he could have both the success and the fun of doing something you like. All of it, and also the dreams where Wei Ying kissed him (because he was never the one to initiate it), touched him, pinned him to the floor from where he fell in endless loops — all of his inappropriate desire falls upon a single, tiny brush of red.

 Holding Wei Ying’s chin, he glides the brush, shiny and glossy, over the center of Wei Ying’s lower lip and then out to the sides. Then he draws the heart shape of his upper lip, careful not to color outside the natural lines of Wei Ying’s mouth, slowly, slowly covering every corner with calculated precision. He’s mindful not to use too much product, knowing by its consistence that it can smear unsightly, but it still accumulates in the corners, and he wipes it away with his digit, using the tip of his nail to draw the proper line again.

 His gaze moves up and the eyes he framed are looking straight at him. How long had he been staring at him? How long had Lan Zhan even been working? And why can’t he hear the others getting ready around them?

 His breathing, that had been steady — and he had, by all accounts, been touching Wei Ying’s face as he hovered over him, trying to make him even more beautiful than the memory of their past plays — fails him as the tip of Wei Ying’s tongue peaks through, just the tip, before he touches his lips together. His teeth look whiter with that red framing them, and Lan Zhan can’t look away, he’s mesmerized by that mouth that loves to talk to him, pouring out considerations from topics Lan Zhan had never even considered but that he understands when Wei Ying talks about them. But now he’s not talking, his lips are just perfect and unmoving and parted, and Wei Ying still has his chin tilted up at him, and he’s so near. Why isn’t Wei Ying saying anything? Where is everyone? Why is he gripping the arms of Wei Ying’s chair—

 “Are you done there yet?!”

 Jiang Cheng’s call is very clear and very near, and Lan Zhan is aware that he has made an undignified jump away from his position in 0.1 seconds flat. He expects Wei Ying to laugh at him, as he does in almost every situation, but when Lan Zhan dares to raise his eyes back at his friend, he’s also standing and adjusting his cuffs before checking his reflection on a nearby mirror.

 “Wow,” is all that he says about Lan Zhan’s work, and Lan Zhan is surprised that, despite the panicked drumming of his heart against his chest that spells out all of his secret infatuation, he’s still glad that Wei Ying seems pleased about the results.

 “I... I kept it simple,” he says, and it’s true. Xuanyu uses a plethora of products that Lan Zhan doesn’t quite begin to understand the purpose of, and he still wouldn’t have taken as long as Lan Zhan did given his expertise.

 Wei Ying, however, just shakes his head and gives him an honest (and painfully distracting) smile.

 “These kids are in for an especially striking Yiling Patriarch today,” he says and smirks, and Lan Zhan wants to kiss him and die, and those ideas don’t feel as isolated as he originally thought they’d be. “Let’s go, Lan Zhan.”

 Lan Zhan is terribly relieved that they had decided to write him out for today, because he’s not confident he’d remember to say any of his lines, even if they were just mostly hums, with Wei Ying playing his flute in a particularly intense tempo, eyes glued on him, as if he was the one he wanted to enchant.

 ***

 “Lan Zhan, create my new character with me.”

 That is the sole reason why Wei Ying arrives early to one of the few classes they have together, the very next week after their performance. Their professor is never late, but that doesn’t keep Wei Ying from throwing his notebook at him, an old thing, full of scribbles that date to a place in time when they didn’t even know each other. Wei Ying makes a list of attributes, sitting in his own space but leaning over Lan Zhan’s desk with inspiration at the tip of his tongue. He looks up at Lan Zhan with eyes that might as well sparkle like in the comics he once convinced Lan Zhan to read.

 “I want to be a hero,” Wei Ying says, voice brimming with an emotion Lan Zhan can’t quite place, and they’re only forced out of their own world when the professor clears his throat loudly, quite pointedly looking in their direction.

 Although he takes his notes dutifully, Wei Ying keeps throwing him glances with barely contained excitement, and in the back of Lan Zhan’s mind, in-between the professor’s pauses, he’s already working on the design.

 ***

 The troupe doesn’t have to meet for some time, given they all also have to focus on their own assignments and upcoming exams. When they do, after New Year celebrations, it’ll be time to brainstorm, and Wei Ying, diligent for all the wrong things at the wrong times, plans to pitch his brand new concept.

 “He’s going to be one of two prides,” he says, sprawled on Lan Zhan’s couch, his hands raised high, as far as he can reach, palms splayed, as if he can already see the scenes playing out on the ceiling.

 “Prideful?” Lan Zhan questions from his place on the floor, leaning against the couch and looking at Wei Ying, his sketchbook on the low table before him, waiting.

 “Hmm, not his definitive trait. His brother is though — that’s Jiang Cheng, of course —, as the rightful heir to the kingdom. I’ll be...”

 “A general?”

 “A loyal servant and prized adviser? You know, sort of like Merlin. But I don’t wanna be a sorcerer this time, I wanna wield a sword. I love brother Mingjue’s props.”

 Lan Zhan huffs, and whether it’s about Nie Mingjue’s props or the idea of Wei Ying being an adviser, he doesn’t say.

 “Lan Zhan, close your eyes and imagine it.”

 He leans his head back, more against Wei Ying than the couch, and does so. One of Wei Ying’s hands sets over his eyes, for unnecessary effect, and Lan Zhan can’t help but allow himself to smile.

 “A prince and his right hand, the twin prides. One is the rightful heir, the other is... adopted, yes. Together they defend Lotus Pier against invaders, and their rising success brings them notoriety among the other kingdoms. What do you think?”

 “Purple.”

 “Hmm?”

 “The royal color of Lotus Pier should be purple. Pink is too light, purple is better. Like Yunmeng’s sky in the summer.”

 “You still remember that?”

 Wei Ying lifts his hand from his eyes, resting it on his hair as Lan Zhan turns his head around to look at Wei Ying, acquiescing with a hum. The last time he went to Yunmeng for the summer, he sent Lan Zhan dozens of pictures, including one from the beach at sunset, when the sky was a gradient of orange and purple, like a painting. Wei Ying thought Lan Zhan would love that one, and he did, making sure he told Wei Ying that instead of keeping it to himself.

 (Although he loved and saved all of them to his phone anyway, but he kept that to himself.)

 “Isn’t that what you were thinking about? Lotus. Yunmeng.”

 Wei Ying smiles and hums an agreement of his own, his fingers brushing Lan Zhan’s bangs away from his face. And because they’re both so easy to read to each other, and Wei Ying’s gaze is so unmistakably fond, and because he feels himself too open, Lan Zhan lifts his head from the couch and leans forward, fingers hurriedly taking up his mechanic pencil to scribble down a few keywords. Purple. Twins. Adopted. Adviser.

 “I haven’t figured out how to go about it yet,” Wei Ying says as he moves from the couch to sit beside Lan Zhan on the floor, “but I wanted to create a different kind of hero than we’ve worked with before.”

 “The adoption part will be important for the children,” Lan Zhan points out with a nod. “It’s good, Wei Ying.”

 Wei Ying lets out a strangled noise and takes hold of Lan Zhan’s left arm, rubbing his face on his upper arm before looking back at Lan Zhan. His cheeks and nose are red, but he has the same excited glint in his eyes that he had when he approached Lan Zhan in class the day before, and Lan Zhan thinks it simply belongs there. This is his favorite Wei Ying, creative and free, and though he’s bound by his academic responsibilities, as long as Lan Zhan is with him, he’ll make sure he succeeds in everything he does. Everything for that crescent moon smile, full of stars.

 “So, what else?”

 Lan Zhan’s mechanic pencil hovers over the paper as they think, scribbling down more keywords, until it becomes so late in the evening that Wei Ying misses his dormitory’s curfew and has to sleep at Lan Zhan’s flat, in a guest bedroom that holds more of Wei Ying’s forgotten possessions than those of Lan Zhan’s brother, who was supposedly the person he kept the room for.

 ***

 “Why did you keep the red ribbon?”

 Lan Zhan sets his red pencil down, lifting his sketchbook so both of them can think about it together.

 “Both Wanyin and Wuxian use the same clothes and hairstyle, as twins and members of the royal family. Wanyin, as the heir, wears the crown’s jewelry in his hair. Wuxian is a main character too, so he can’t look any less striking, so, the red ribbon.”

 It’s your color goes unsaid. His hair is long, past his shoulders, though Jiang Cheng keeps telling him to get it cut like a normal person, and he always ties it with a red velvet scrunchie. As the Yiling Patriarch, he wore a red ribbon in his hair, and when he played the dizi and a gust of wind blew by him, he was mesmerizing, the red unforgettable against Wen Ning’s hand-drawn background. There was always something red about Wei Ying; a red backpack, red converse, and that red lipstick... Lan Zhan still dreams about it.

 It should be there. Yet Wei Ying keeps his brows furrowed at the drawing.

 “But isn’t it too striking? I don’t think Jiang Cheng is going to like it.”

 “Wei Ying.”

 He takes Wei Ying’s wrist, bringing it away from his face, where he was chewing on his nailbeds. Sitting side by side without a space between them, he lowered their hands to their laps and his hold moved to keep his palm against Wei Ying’s. It’s a lax hold, unambitious, just sharing warmth.

 “You can be a hero too.”

 His lips part, but he doesn’t say anything. He holds Lan Zhan’s gaze for long seconds (maybe two) before he bites his lip, huffs a repressed laughter, and lets his head fall on Lan Zhan’s shoulder.

 “Lan Zhan,” he says it like a whine, like a plea, and he feels his fingers intertwine with his, the connection still comfortable, still known, still familiar.

 “This whole project is yours,” Lan Zhan speaks into his hair. “You should be able to do what you want.”

 Wei Ying snorts.

 “Isn’t that vain?”

 “...You’re not exactly humble.”

 He lifts his head from his shoulder and bumps into him with a pointed, “Hey.” Lan Zhan chuckles, almost without sound, and pats the hand that’s still holding his.

 They look back at the design. Lan Zhan can already envision the fabrics he’s going to use, the details that he wants to add, and he already regrets saying that both Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng’s characters are going to dress the same.

 Wei Ying sighs. “You spoil me with your designs, Lan Zhan.”

 And he can’t really deny that.

 ***

 It’s as difficult to keep Wei Ying focused on his studies as it is for Lan Zhan to not drop his books and go to his workshop to sew Wei Ying’s costume. Even though exams are merely weeks away, Lan Zhan still finds some time to secretly buy all of the material he needs while Wei Ying tries to keep up with his own study group. And it proves to be a wise decision because Wei Ying doesn’t last two days with his classmates before he shows up at Lan Zhan’s flat with thick books recently checked out from the library and teary eyes.

 “I hate studying,” he dramatically announces as he flops down face-first on the couch. Lan Zhan knows it’s true as much as he knows that Wei Ying actually really enjoys being practical.

 He opens Wei Ying’s bag and puts his books on the low table. “Why are you even taking classic literature?”

 “It’s inspiring,” Wei Ying says, eyes closed and voice muffled by the leather of the couch. “It’s food for the soul. It’s pretty like you.”

 Lan Zhan halts his movements, not daring to turn or do anything else; one hand lies atop Wei Ying’s bag and another on the advanced physics book he last set down.

 Wei Ying is by his side before he blinks twice, putting his bag away and apparently trying to choose which of the books he wants to open, but too rushed and flushed to be doing much thinking at all.

 “You,” Lan Zhan begins, swallows, inhales and tries again. “Do you want me to help?”

 Wei Ying’s head snaps in his direction. With big eyes and his lower lip hidden under his upper lip, he just nods, and Lan Zhan either saves or dooms them both as he sets all books aside and puts the Advanced Physics book in front of them.

 “Explain.”

 Flipping the pages to the subject that would be covered in his exams, Wei Ying takes out his notebook, and he explains.

 ***

 The end of the year is marked by heavy snowfall, the kind that has Wei Ying’s teeth clattering together outside, even if he’s covered in layers that are short from hindering his mobility and wearing a scarf so wound around his head that only his eyes peak out between the wool. It’s the only time of the year that Lan Zhan feels bad for his staying in Gusu, as if the city is like a stern parent testing the object of his affections and Wei Ying barely passes, or maybe bypasses it, by sticking close to Lan Zhan even when they’re indoors. He indulges in their practiced proximity, and if his body yearns for more, he sternly shuts it down, unable to sacrifice all the years of accumulated mutual trust for the gamble of a confession.

 As always, however, he’s saved from the trap of his feelings by Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng’s end of the year trip to Yunmeng. And on cue, he leaves his own flat to spend the turn of the year with his uncle and brother at the Lan estate, set in the part of the city where the hills are high enough to almost sit among the clouds.

 Between hot tea brewed to perfection by his brother, television cooking programs that his uncle has become oddly fond of in the past year, and the occasional reading (both required and unrequired for his studies), Lan Zhans works on Wei Ying’s costume in the studio his brother arranged for him when he first enrolled in Wei Ying’s drama club.

 “Did you make this jinbu, A-Zhan?” Brother Huan asks when he brings him tea and biscuits, picking up the accessory with a purple tassel, light and dark purple beads and a white lotus that could pass as jade. At his younger brother’s nod, Lan Huan’s smile is so delighted that Lan Zhan has to look away. “It’s beautiful work, A-Zhan. You could really make a profession out of it.”

 “Brother, it’s just...”

 He trails off as his brother chuckles and gently places the jinbu back down.

 “I know. It’s just for Wei Ying, isn’t it?”

 Lan Zhan leans even further down into the fabric he’s working on, pretending to check something in the sewing machine.

 “It’s just a hobby,” he admits instead. Lan Huan doesn’t discredit him, patting his head like he’s still a child, and Lan Zhan doesn’t have it in him to dislike the touch.

 “Just remember that if you ever question the serious profession you’re seeking, A-Zhan, the answer always lies closer than you think.”

 The older Lan Sibling tilts his head, taking in all of his little brother’s work laid out in the space of his studio. He looks at the design Lan Zhan is trying to bring to life and then at all the materials on the station, and an imperceptible frown touches his face, like a ripple on calm waters.

 “This fabric...”

 Lan Zhan sighs, knowing exactly what fabric he’s questioning, without even having to try and see it in his brother’s hands.

 “I know. I couldn’t find the one I wanted in time.”

 He works the machine to keep the frustration away, so he doesn’t notice his brother leaving with the offending fabric, only to return, hours later, with such a fine material that Lan Zhan breaks into a bright, grateful smile. During dinner, even uncle, so often taciturn, makes the table inviting with an amicable mood, the three of them enjoying a meal that their caretaker made with his own hands, the elder rambling on and on about every detail of the cooking process while his nephews pay dutiful attention and encourage the little passion that seemed to burn quietly in the heart of every Lan.

 ***

 Wei Ying’s praise for Lan Zhan’s work was ever grandiose, and any other man could let it get to his head like an invincibility potion. Lan Zhan, however, is a simple man, and only his heart swells with contentment at every exaggerated compliment that falls out of that beloved mouth.

 When Lan Zhan shows him the finished the prototype costume for his twin pride character, however, Wei Ying seems to be, maybe for the first time since they started collaborating, at a loss for words.

 “It’s so...” He starts, touching the rich purple fabric with hesitant fingertips. Lan Zhan knows it’s more than their budget, and that they don’t even have a proper story yet, just the core concepts that they came up with together. But Wei Ying had been so engaged, so inspired, and though he’s usually that way when he’s working with Nie Huaisang, it’s the first time he asks Lan Zhan to create a character with him. So he was impulsive. It’s not a crime. “Lan Zhan, it’s...”

 Wei Ying brings the costume to his face, rubbing it against his cheek, and the pleased hum he lets out makes Lan Zhan’s breath cease for a couple of seconds.

 “Make-up test?” Lan Zhan offers, a little weakly, a little shy, but Wei Ying practically jumps in place at the thought, electrified with excitement.

 “Make-up test!” He announces before he runs to the guest bedroom in wide steps and Lan Zhan, left with unwelcome nerves, nervously puts Wei Ying’s backpack away on the couch from where he had unceremoniously dropped it on the floor.

 When Wei Ying comes out of the bedroom, Lan Zhan was thinking about making tea after he had paced from the living room to his own bedroom, then to the kitchen to drink some water, to the window to check the weather, until he finally stopped to sit on the couch, where Wei Ying finds him. His best friend comes out of the bedroom in the costume Lan Zhan designed for him (just for him, he decides right there, he’ll simply have to rethink how to proceed with Jiang Cheng), sets a hairbrush, a red ribbon, and a big pouch on the low table, before twirling around himself.

 “So? What do you think?”

 Wei Ying had always favored black and red. They weren’t the sole colors he used, and Lan Zhan particularly liked when he wore white, the color brightening up his features like a beacon, but Lan Zhan is sure he had never worn something like the bright purple of the robes Lan Zhan made for him. When he twirls, the light plays tricks on the fabric, like a multi-colored bouquet of hydrangeas glistening after a rainshower. The inner robes are a simple black, but the outer jacket is more fascinating still, of a dark purple, almost black, iridescent, see-through fabric that he knows his brother bought from someplace outside of Gusu. Lanling, he believes. On the back, he embroidered a lotus motif with nine petals, the symbol of Wei Ying’s royalty.

 “I love it so much,” Wei Ying says, without waiting for his response, unknowingly almost sending Lan Zhan into cardiac arrest. His hands keep petting down on the costume, and he giggles when he touches the jinbu that jingles with a small bell that Lan Zhan added as a last-minute detail. “Lan Zhan, I can’t believe you made this. We haven’t even finished creating Wuxian, and it’s really...” He laughs, somewhat strained, covering his face with his hands, before dropping on the couch beside Lan Zhan. “How am I supposed to kill him now?”

 Lan Zhan immediately snaps out of his reverie, blinking rapidly.

 “Kill?”

 Wei Ying sighs, letting his hands drop and leaning his head against the couch backrest.

 “Yeah. I was thinking that Wuxian would sacrifice himself to save Jiang Cheng and the kingdom. Like, he runs out of good ideas in a crisis but the kingdom and his family are bigger than he is, so he makes his decision. The kingdom sings songs about him after he dies, and he’s widely recognized as an important member of the royal family.”

 Lan Zhan can read too much between the lines of that script, and the fact that Wei Ying has come to the conclusion that his death, however metaphorical, is the answer, sits heavy on his stomach.

 “Wei Ying,” he calls, a bit too sternly, perhaps, as Wei Ying looks up from fiddling with his jinbu like a child ready to be scolded. “Wei Ying, you can’t kill him,” he says, more softly. “You can’t kill the adopted son in front of an audience of foster kids. What kind of message would we be sending them?”

 “I know,” he whines. “But isn’t it heroic?”

 “Death is just death.” He takes Wei Ying’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “Even in fiction. The ones that stay behind are never happy to part with a loved one.” Wei Ying turns his hand in Lan Zhan’s grasp so they’re palm to palm again, puzzle pieces fitting together. Lan Zhan inches closer, brings their clasped hands to his chest, and firmly says, “We’re not killing Wuxian.”

 Wei Ying’s laugh is just a huff of air, and he can’t hide his tears when he wipes them away from the corners of his eyes.

 “Okay. Wuxian lives in the end.”

 Lan Zhan nods, letting their hands fall between them, but not letting go. The silence that follows Wei Ying’s sniffles is not uncomfortable, but there’s something in the space between them, in the way Wei Ying is wearing that beautiful purple that Lan Zhan made for him, in the way Wei Ying keeps looking at his face, that Lan Zhan feels is both thick and fragile like glass. Or maybe he’s a coward, just a coward in the end, consumed by his desire to hold that man and touch him and kiss him, but ultimately defeated by the overbearing affection that wants him to make sure he never leaves Wei Ying, never lets him think he has to sacrifice himself for anyone, when he’s the brightest star in everyone’s lives.

 “Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying calls, and he seems to be closer than he was just a moment ago, the tears gone, leaving only a shine in his eyes in their wake. “Aren’t you going to finish our make-up test?”

 At Lan Zhan’s nod, Wei Ying smiles his wide, crescent moon smile and hops to the floor, handing Lan Zhan the hairbrush from over his shoulder. Lan Zhan, who has experience at both being a younger brother who played with his elder brother and a long-time drama club member, brushes Wei Ying’s hair without hesitation or clumsiness. Given the sheer volume of hair that Wei Ying possesses, there’s no way that the bun can be secured for long with just the ribbon, but Lan Zhan doesn’t want to get up to get any pins, so he just works with what he’s given, tying a pretty bow near Wei Ying’s nape, the ends of the ribbon still falling long, down his back. He had been right. The red looks almost mystical against the purple.

 “So, since the royal color is purple, should my make-up be purple too?”

 Lan Zhan climbs down from the couch, kneeling beside the other, and shakes his head. He takes the pouch from Wei Ying (that he’s sure is Mo Xuanyu’s, when did Wei Ying even take it?) and pulls a neutral-colored palette and a brush.

 “The clothes are already flashy enough, so we’re only framing your face,” Lan Zhan explains, although he’s more versed in colors than in make-up specifically, but it’s a test. If Mo Xuanyu has any better ideas once the story is pitched to the group, then he’s free to use them. Right then, Lan Zhan stands on his knees for a better angle to paint Wei Ying’s eyeshadow an earthy, reddish brown. With a thin, black pencil, he traces the line along his lashes in a much finer touch than the one he used for the Yiling Patriarch, just so the audience knows that his eyes are just as important as his clothes, that his person is just as big as his position.

 For his lips, he chooses a similarly neutral, peachy shade, just so he doesn’t look pale under the stage light, so his smiles can reach even the chairs in the furthest rows. The traditional lipstick makes less of a mess than the glossy, liquid red one he used before, but still the corners... No matter how careful Lan Zhan is, he still misses his mark when he gets to the corners. So he reaches out, just as he did then, to wipe the excess at the corner of Wei Ying’s lips with his thumb, and it’s so much easier this time.

 So much easier, and still... He runs his thumb along the lines of Wei Ying’s lower lip, as if there’s something there to correct, but there’s nothing, just his lips, parted and colored and waiting. Just his lips and that birthmark underneath, distracting, beckoning, a natural wonder that Lan Zhan can’t ignore, he looks, and he touches, and he’s lost, dazed again.

 Those lips open, form the syllables of his name.

 He looks up, wide-eyed, at a Wei Ying that is closely watching him. Eyes as round and attentive as they always were.

 “Lan Zhan. Do you want to kiss me?”

 He swallows and tries to look down, but Wei Ying takes his face between both of his hands and doesn’t let him.

 “Do you?” He repeats, and because he cannot lie, because he especially cannot lie to Wei Ying, he nods, and he closes his eyes, and he waits for his best friend’s judgment.

 “Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying calls again, and Lan Zhan can hear him shift his position. “Lan Zhan, look at me.”

 He opens his eyes and he does. Wei Ying is at his eye level, standing on his knees as well. Wei Ying, always so expressive, doesn’t look anything like Lan Zhan had feared; he looks kind and patient and good. Lan Zhan’s hands, without him even noticing it, have moved to hold Wei Ying’s wrists.

 “Lan Zhan,” he calls, and in Lan Zhan’s mind, it could be the last time. But it sounds just as melodious, just as full of Wei Ying’s sincerity as it always did. “Can I kiss you?”

 All of his thought processes, all of his observations trail off then. Wei Ying looks a little flushed, though Lan Zhan didn’t apply any make-up to his cheeks. And his mouth, his beautiful, glistening mouth, displays a half-smile. Expectant. A little scared.

 Once Lan Zhan nods, everything seems to resume at a much faster pace, as if they stepped too hard on the gas pedal and their car flew off the road with a loud screech. Wei Ying exhales before their lips meet, as if meeting two necessities at once. He throws his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck and pulls, his lips opening and closing around the other’s as many times as he can before he needs to breathe again. And then breaks away just to catch his breath before he’s lounging forward again, forcing Lan Zhan into a sitting position so he can climb on his lap and rob him of all coherent thought. Lan Zhan circles his arms around his middle, underneath the outer jacket, securing Wei Ying flush against him. The kiss is messy, wet, open-mouthed and inexperienced, Lan Zhan just following Wei Ying’s lead, which isn’t much of a lead, as Wei Ying whimpers between touches. The sound is enough to make Lan Zhan lose the last grasp he had on control, and that sends him to fall backwards, all the way back where he has no support, and they only have a second to disconnect their mouths before Lan Zhan’s head hits the hard floor.

 “Oh my God, are you okay?!”

 Lan Zhan winces, seeing stars in front of his eyes, and Wei Ying is quick to pull him back to an upright position, helping him lean his back against the couch before climbing back on his lap.

 “Lan Zhan, does it hurt too bad? Is it bleeding? Do you have a concussion? We should go to the—”

 “I’m all right,” he says, his voice a little hoarse. Wei Ying touches the back of his head and he winces, but he reassures him again. “It’s okay. It’s just a bump.”

 Wei Ying pats his hair into place after the mess that his hands made.

 “I’m sorry.”

 “Don’t be.”

 Wei Ying’s lipstick is smeared all around his plump mouth (from kissing; from kissing him), and Lan Zhan be damned, he didn’t think Wei Ying could look more attractive and then he looks like that. It’d be unfair if Wei Ying wasn’t following a similar train of thought, thumbs touching around Lan Zhan’s mouth in a weak effort to wipe away the lipstick there. And because he wasn’t really trying, he just kisses him again, slow, unhurried, almost chaste, a kiss that lasts long, a whole time unit in its own.

 His hair is down, red ribbon lying somewhere on the floor. Lan Zhan pushes it away from his face so he can take a good look at him, his best friend, brilliant and full of life and beautiful around him, in his embrace, his cheeks flushing darker the longer he observes him, until Wei Ying throws his arms around him again and hides his face on his neck.

 “I have a confession to make.”

 Lan Zhan hums, his hand moving up and down Wei Ying’s back.

 “I didn’t really plan on writing a play with Wuxian... I created him as a way to spend time with you.”

 When Wei Ying takes a deep breath, Lan Zhan can feel it, against his chest, on his neck, the exhale making him shiver.

 “After our last performance, I— well, we never really...”

 Wei Ying sighs, and Lan Zhan’s hand moves to his hair, petting, fond. He barely ever allowed himself to think of touching Wei Ying, yet it feels like the right thing to do, a natural step from all the hand holding and working in each other’s personal spaces. And it’s just what he can do to tell Wei Ying to go on, that he’s there, listening, although he’s not done collecting all of the fragments of his own confession, shattered in the car crash of a kiss long suffered.

 “I’ve always really admired you, Lan Zhan. Your talent, your imagination, everything you do is so good. I wanted to make something with you, to spend all of my time with you, to create something out of nothing that was ours.”

 Lan Zhan can feel Wei Ying raising his head, his chin resting on Lan Zhan’s shoulder.

 “You see, Lan Zhan, I’m really selfish. I’ve had a crush on you since I first laid eyes on you when we were fifteen but now I really wanted all of your attention. The way you looked at me that day, I... You don’t have any idea what you do to me.”

 Wei Ying tries to hide again, but Lan Zhan holds his shoulders, pulls him back to look at him. His mouth is still a mess of lipstick, but his eyes are wide, exposed. Lan Zhan tries to wipe the lipstick away, just to save Wei Ying some grace, because the weight of his their attraction pulling them together was nothing compared to the weight of the heart against one’s palms.

 “I’ve always admired you.” Lan Zhan echoes, eyes still focused on those lips, still trying to clean up their mess.  “Your talent, your imagination, and everything you do. I want to spend all my time with you, and create things with you, things that everybody will look and know it’s ours.”

 His hand, on Wei Ying’s face, moves to cup his cheek; his gaze moves up, without hesitation, because being there with Wei Ying when he falls is all he’s ever done, when people laughed at their plays, when their plans were foiled, when their ideas went nowhere. They’d come together, the two of them, and rise the whole group back up, one more time.

 “I really like you, Wei Ying. I’ve liked you for a long time now.”

 How could he be pretty even when he cries?

 “Why didn’t you say anything?”

 “You’re my best friend. The only one in this lifetime.”

 It’s only when Wei Ying touches his cheeks that he realizes he’s crying too.

 “You’re my best friend too, Lan Zhan. And I really, really like you back.”

 The kiss they share then is somewhere in-between the other two. It’s tender like a first kiss between their teenage selves, pecks that follow one after the other and another again, followed by kisses on each other’s cheeks, on noses and foreheads, marked with promise and lipstick. And when they finally regain their breath from their confessions, from their laughter, it’s open-mouthed and eager, ready to discover each other’s taste, and the best angles for their tongues to come together, to elicit delicious sounds from their throats.

 Wei Ying finds as much delight in delicately peeling the clothes Lan Zhan made for him open as he did in putting them on. And the view is almost too much for the designer, who both marvels and suffers at all the layers of his creation, sprawled underneath Wei Ying, still so beautiful against his skin, but ultimately forgotten.

 ***

 “Lan Zhan.”

 It’s a snowy night. Cold and white and long, sure to trap them inside when the morning comes.

 The answer to Wei Ying’s sensibilities, in the end, turned out to be simple; cuddle up as close as he can to his boyfriend, underneath thick and fluffy blankets.

 “Mn?”

 “I thought up a nicer end for Wuxian.”

 Lan Zhan doesn’t bother to open his eyes in the dark. He just turns his head to touch Wei Ying’s, his nose cold on the other’s forehead.

 “In the end he sacrifices himself for the kingdom but he doesn’t die. He ends up powerless but he meets someone who takes care of him regardless of the fact that he’s a royal.”

 Wei Ying plays with the collar of his pajamas and Lan Zhan could burst with contentment, but he only smiles against Wei Ying’s skin.

 “So when Wanyin finally finds Wuxian again, a long time later, Wuxian has become wiser because he realizes true strength doesn’t come from battles or sacrifices, but human connection. So he promises to be Wanyin’s adviser because he loves and supports him, but he’s not going back to the palace, he’s staying with Wangji.”

 “Wangji?”

 Wei Ying hums. Lan Zhan likes that ending. It’s a good message for the kids, to follow your heart rather than a life mission.

 It takes his sleepy mind a few seconds to remember his brother’s words. He’s going to like Wei Ying’s play, very much so.

 “Lan Zhan?”

 “Mn?”

 “Will you be my Wangji?”

 He kisses Wei Ying’s forehead and places his hand against the hand that lies on his chest, next to his heart.

 “Mn. I will be Wei Ying’s commoner wife.”

 Wei Ying snorts before nuzzling his shoulder.

 “I haven’t decided if he’s going to be a commoner yet. But you’re going to wear blue. Blue and white, like Gusu’s clear skies.”

 Lan Zhan doesn’t comment on how Wei Ying didn’t deny being his partner in the play, even if they had just confessed to liking each other. There’s still so much more to be said, and Lan Zhan loves the anticipation, will dream about them with Wei Ying in his arms all night, and all of the next day, too.

 “I thought you didn’t like Gusu that much.”

 “Of course I like Gusu. All of my memories with you are here.”

 Lan Zhan turns to his side, hugs Wei Ying tight against his chest, making him laugh. He kisses him all over his face before meeting his lips, then covers him up to his chin to protect him from the cold, and together, they fall asleep, the future holding a different shape in their creative, clasped hands.

[a-fanatic-fangirl-requests]

About the Fangirl~ (200 Follower Celebration)

Since I got asked more about myself for the 200 follower celebration, here are some questions and answers about my life!

How long have you been writing and what inspired you to start?

Hmm, I'd say it was in 8th grade when I got my first phone. I typed up a really bad Sasuke fanfiction. I had first gotten into anime/manga in 5th grade, and had been reading it regularly since then, so the stories and characters have inspired me I'd say. Plus, when I discovered that people actually wrote stories about characters and published online, that's definitely where I got the inspiration too.

And as a side note, part of my degree is an English major with a writing emphasis, specifically in creative writing. Mainly because I can write what I want and other people can't disagree with it like they could with research or essays lol

Who are your favourite writers?

Hmm, that's a hard one. But I'm going to list the ones that don't have anything to do with anime/manga.

Pat Barker is a great British writer that was introduced to me in a class. Her books write from the perspective of those in history that haven't had a voice. Right now, I'm reading her book "The Silence of the Girls" that depicts the lives of the captured women of Troy by Agamemnon’s army in the Trojan War (from a fictional standpoint)

Rumi is more of a poet, but still a writer. He has many many works that even if you don’t like poetry, there will be one that speaks to you.

There are so many more, but, let’s go with that~

Who are your favourite anime characters and which anime is your favourite?

Why is this cursed question something I have to answer >.< lol I'll start off by saying I'm not a huge fan of girls/women in anime because they feel so forced it's painful. So if there is a girl I like, its because she has had good character development or she doesn't roll over at the whims of those around her.

I love Makoto Tachibana from Free! Iwatobi Swim Club. I'm so soft for him its unreal. I may have bought a 1/8 figure of him and hope I can get another one soon >.>

And, of course, Sesshomaru, Sasuke, and Sebastian are my top three probably.They all start with ‘s’ now that I notice that....

+Anima is such an underrated manga, I wish it would have been popular enough to have been made into an anime.

Yotsuba&! is another great one! If I feel sad, I read that one and I just cheer right on up~

I’ll add more as I think of them!

What do you do on your free time apart from writing?

I play video games and I stream them from time to time. Lately, I've been obsessed with Animal Crossing: New Horizons like the rest of the internet. But I'd say I prefer the more anime style games like Rune Factory and Persona.

I’ve also gotten into crocheting recently. Still very very basic stuff, but it’s quite calming~

What would be your number 1 destination holiday?

Japan. C'mon, let's be real here~ I'm a big history buff too, like, I will cry in a museum that has something super old because I just love it so much or crying at history being destroyed. So specifically, I'd probably want to go to Kyoto.

What kind of music do you like?

I prefer electronic type music, specifically Chill. Otherwise early 2000s pop music and the Black Panther OST (so specific, I know lol)

Do you dance, draw or design?

I danced from 3rd grade to 7th grade, and did tap, cecchetti, jazz, broadway, and hip hop. Tap was my favorite though :3 I can draw, but I can't draw well. I drew a really good horse head one time. Never drew well again afterwards it seems~ I enjoy designing, especially in games like Stardew Valley or The Sims to name a few. My hyperfocus comes in handy for those types of things. I enjoy video production and editing too. I just wish my current job gave me more freedom in that department, especially without a deadline.

What type of genre do you prefer writing/reading?

I like writing fluff, because I'm a hopeless romantic, and I enjoy writing angst (if you couldn't tell) because I apparently like to have emotional pain for my characters? But I enjoy reading angst and, ahem, *fun* stuff too >///>

That doesn't mean I don't enjoy writing any other genre, I just sometimes have to be in the right headspace for it.

Do you have any pets?

I do! My cat just turned 16 last week, I've had him since 1st grade. His name is Coco Fluff (I was in first grade, shut up) but I call him something that is hard to spell phonetically because it's not really a name? I call him Foos Boos. That's the best I can do with that name....

Are you an early birdie or a night owl?

Definitely a night owl. One of my jobs has me be to work at around 4am some days and I just want to bang my head on the wall. Its far easier for me to stay up late than get up early.

What gives you inspiration?

Mmm, probably my own messed up life, the experiences from others, and situations in stories I read. I kinda pull ideas and inspiration from many mediums that helps me write.

But what gets me motivated is a great story idea, or knowing that people are reading and liking my stuff tbh. It's relieving to hear what someone thinks about my writing, especially since I don't feel like its good sometimes. But I try my best!

That's all the questions for now 🤗 I'll let you know if more pop up!

Bonus: here is my old man of a cat

[saltycharacters]

Alright well since this is the last day of the decade, and that's how long I've been alive (born 2000), I wanted to do SOMETHING so uuuh I'm gonna show off the characters I'm the most proud of making!

-Stonks: I'm really proud of her design, she was made during my first day of college (during my statistics class) and in a way represents my introduction to the next step of my life, so I'm very fond of her for that. I also like her story and personality, as she's written as a generally sweet, nervous nerd who's head over heals over a girl in her office while still having a few secrets she has to keep under wraps, as her horrible town corrupts anyone that lives in it. Also her name is a meme and I love that too

-Goby Powehi: Again I'm all about design and I enjoy hers a whole lot. She was roughly based off a pervious character which was inspired by an old fakemon, from back when I made over 200 in elementary (and started my passion for character design). So she has some pretty special origins. She's also the star of her own story and one of my favorites, as well as having a fun personality and secrets as well, although easily uncovered. Plus she has awesome powers and sci-fi/fantasy origins that I enjoy writing

-CeeCee: I could argue that ALL of the ocs that managed to get popular through my flipnotes are my favorites, not necissarily because of design/story but because they achieved a level of recognition and love I've always wanted for my characters. My ocs mean a lot to me and have contributed to my happiness throughout my whole life, so I feel like a proud parent when others love them as much as I do. CeeCee is the prime example of this, as she's arguably my most popular character/animation. I don't draw her much because I like to focus on all of my characters and she already gets more attention than anyone else, but she still holds a very special place in my heart. Overall, she's helped me achieve what I thought I could not, and it's amazing to think how I almost sold her as an adopt, years ago, and this would have never happened.

-All of the Fruit Citizens: This may be a bit of a cop-out, but it's true. Although I have a select few that I prefer over the others, all of my Fruit Citizens have designs and stories I'm very proud of. The entire premise itself is one of my most complete and developed stories yet, and has elements I really enjoy working with. Even if I haven't done anything other than draw characters, this is the closest to starting a project I've ever gotten, something I've wanted to do so badly for all of my life but haven't been able to due to my adhd and lack of time. I really completed 48 fully colored refs for this one thing and I haven't felt this productive since my flipnote days. I can't express how happy and proud I am for how well it's been received, and I hope people continue to ask me about it as I develop it more. Also I accedentally made 5 new fruit citizens so expect more refs lmaooo

-Cavity: Not to toot my own horn but out of all of my designs I consider this one of the most clever/coolest. I love the combination of a geode with a hoodie, and using the crystal motif to also give them the apperance of a rabbit. I'm still working on their story, and this image could be better, but for the design alone Cavity has become one of my favorites.

-Uri: He has always been a comfort character to me. I don't know why, but I always felt like I could relate to Uri the most, even though we're vastly different. I suspect I latch onto bold male characters because thats what I want to be at times, and to this day I find comfort in his confidence and ability to create his own world and circumstances just by being himself. He's more like a close friend than a character at this point, and I always return to him when I'm out of ideas. He's changed a lot over the 7 years I've had him, both in personality and apperance, and even now his design and story is being worked on, but there's no denying that he holds a special place in my heart.

-Mokaro: I consider him my first real character ever, so it's easy to see his significance. I think I created him back in 2012, as a keronian inspired off of my animal jam outfit, and although now he's a human there's still elements to him that have never changed. He's been there for me through thick and thin, he has a lot of personality and story to work with, his design needs a little polishing but overall suits me fine, and like Uri, he's a comfort character so I really treasure everything about him. His significance to my lore is also immeasurable. To say he's special would be an understatment; he really is one of a kind, and it'd be wrong for me not to include him in this character highlight.

-Captain Dark Kitty: This one is self explanatory. She's the official mascot of my work and just as recognized as CeeCee, being the face of my flipnotes for many years. I drew myself as her for most of my middle school and highschool years and considered her my avatar until recently. She was everything I wanted to be: hardcore, red eyes, black hair, cool outfit, literally part cat. As I grew up though, my dream apperance deviated from hers- especially when my preferences stopped including any semblance of femininity. Now I just draw myself as a cartoon version of myself, and instead made CDK her own character. She still has a place as my mascot and will continue her role as one of the most important characters in my roster.

-Bail: He's the closest thing I've had to a consistently favorite character and I love him so much. I love writing his personality and story and drawing him and everything else, there's very little I can say honestly other than he's very special to me and I'll probably never think otherwise.

-Honorable mentions (or as many as I could fit at least):

So for the next decade, I sincerely hope I can continue making characters and content I can be proud of and maybe even make something really big and cool at some point! Thank you all so much for staying with me, see you next year!!

[the-sweetest-dragon]

Souls Uniting

Part Two: Time Flies

Pairing: Peter Parker x Phoenix Graves

Reminder: Soulmate AU

Word Count: 2.5k

AN: I really like writing this series and I have a lot of plans for it (It’s already like 20 pages...) so I’m hoping it picks up a little more.  I love the character and I want to explore her a little more.  The next one will probably be from Peter’s POV because... well you’ll see.

Tags: @audder17 my favorite Spider-Man nerd

Character Sheet     Part One

______________________________________________________

“I want to be your soulmate, even if I don’t believe in them.” – Colleen Hoover

10:37 A.M., Thursday, June 20th, 2019

I groan as my curtains are pulled open, sunshine bearing down on me.

“Rise and shine sleepyhead!  Today’s the day!”  I groan again.  Mom was super excited for this farmer’s market that she had heard about a few days after we had moved in.  She was dragging me along with her, something about exploring the city, even though we had to make a half hour drive OUTSIDE of the city just to get to this market.  

I cover my head with my blanket.  Maybe if she can’t see me, then she’ll leave me be.  Ha, that’s a funny joke Phee.  You should know better than that.  I peek outside my blanket cover to see Mom standing at my desk, my sketchbook in her hands.  I sigh and throw the blanket off me.  

“You do realize that sometimes my sketchbooks are private, right?”  Mom gives me a guilty smile and I shake my head at her.  

“I was just looking at your designs for the kitchen.”  She sets the sketch book down.  “You had bought a lot of blue paint and I was curious.”

“Well, you know what they say.”  I sit up in bed and stretch.  “Curiosity killed the cat.”  I smile and get up out of bed, disturbing both Salem and Sabrina.  They both stare at me with unnerving yellow eyes.  “Sorry kids.”

“Ah, but satisfaction brought it back.”  Mom smiles and gives both cats a quick pet.  “Get dressed.  We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”  I groan but listen to her, knowing that’ll be the best for me if I just do as she says.  I pull on the first outfit I find, which happens to be a paint splattered, black tank top and a pair of shorts.  Parting my hair into two little space buns on the top of my head, I pause to brush my teeth quickly before hurrying to the kitchen.  

I notice the new doodle before my mom does this time.  A smile comes across my face; whoever this was had to be very into memes, because on my arm was a surprised Pikachu face.  I couldn’t help but laugh softly.  I just had to get stuck with a nerd huh?

“Whatcha laughing at Phee?”  I turn to find Mom smiling behind me, a to-go coffee mug in her hands.  I sigh and show her, making her laugh as well.  “Well, whoever it is, sure isn’t an artist.”  She pats my arm and gathers up her purse, double checking that her keys are in them before opening our door.  “Ready for an adventure?”

Laughing, I head out the door, not realizing that at that very moment, I would run into someone.  I run head first into a guy that I had seen only in passing; he lived up a floor with his aunt.  Didn’t know much about him other than there wasn’t anyone else living with them.  He was around my age, if not a year older, and fairly cute.  

I ran into him, making both of us trip over each other’s feet.  He recovers before me and holds onto my biceps to steady me.  I notice how gently he holds my arms, like he may break them.  A spark travels through my body, like he shocked me or something.  I regain my balance and shake myself out of his hold.  I don’t need anyone holding me up.  

“You good?”  I nod, making an ‘ok’ gesture with my hands.  He smiles, knocking me off guard a little.  “I’m Peter.”  He sticks out his hand for me to shake.  I narrow my eyes at his hand but shake it anyways, feeling that shock again.  I’m not big on shaking hands; it’s almost too formal but a hug is too familiar so I’m stuck with a handshake.

“Phoenix.”  I try to smile, I really do, but I’ve noticed his face and I can’t seem to look away.  He’s got these big brown doe eyes that make you want to spill all your secrets.  It’s quite frustrating actually.  I shake myself out of it.  Get a grip Phee.  “Nice to meet you Peter.  I’ve got to get going.”

I wave awkwardly goodbye and head downstairs to wait for Mom.  God, could I get anymore awkward?  I sigh and turn my head up to the ceiling, praying to any god that would listen to just let me die.  Apparently, I could not be trusted around cute boys anymore.  I rub the Pikachu face absentmindedly, wishing I hadn’t of knocked into the kid.  It couldn’t get anymore embarrassing.  

12:13 P.M., Thursday, June 20th, 2019

As it turns out, I could always get more embarrassed by Mom.  She had this power, that only parents could possibly have.  Mom can make an awkward, one time situation, into a full length discussion.  On the car ride to the farmer’s market, we talked about how that Peter guy could have been my soulmate, did you look at his arms, was he cute, do you want to invite him for dinner one night.  The more questions she asked, the farther I sunk into my seat.  Being stuck in the car certainly didn’t help matters; Mom is not a good navigator, so after an hour of searching for this mysterious farmer’s market we headed home.  Which took even longer than before because we had managed to get lost.  Story of our lives.

Back home, Mom ordered some lunch and I worked on my design for the kitchen.  What I really wanted to do was make a beach scene that started over the sink in the kitchen and carried out into the living room.  I start sketching the idea out more thoroughly, making it less detailed than the final product.  The painting process would take me a lot longer than I had originally anticipated but I was up to the challenge and had the entire summer to work on it.  

I sit back in my chair, thinking again about the art on my arms.  Should I draw something on them just to see?  Mom would say yes, of course I should.  I nibble on a hangnail, thinking about my options.  I could do it, figure out right away if that Peter guy was my soulmate, and be somewhat freaked out over how easy it was.  Or I could relax and enjoy this time without a soulmate.  I, being the selfish being that I am, decide to not do anything.  If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.  

“How’s the sketch coming honey?”  I sigh and get up from my chair in the living room to find Mom in the kitchen taping off counters and cabinets in preparation for tomorrow.  She shoots me a smile when I walk in.

“It’s coming okay.  I’m not entirely happy with how it’s looking but by the time I paint it, it should be pretty good.”  Mom nods and turns back to the walls.  I study her for a moment, thinking I may do some portraits for her birthday next month.  I’m sure she would love them but faces are hard to master, especially the eyes.  I sigh and go back to my chair in the living room.  

A buzz is heard throughout the apartment.  The food must be here.  I hop up and grab some money from my purse to pay before opening the door.  The delivery boy smiles and my heart does a little skip.  He’s really good looking; vibrant auburn hair and green eyes.  Kinda crooked nose and a thin mouth.  I check his arm subconsciously, knowing without seeing that there’s no doodles on his arms, but wanting to make sure.  I hand him the money and he hands us our food.  Closing the door, I sigh, somewhat disappointed.  As much as I hate the idea of having a soulmate, it bugs me that I don’t know who it is.  

“Food is here!”  I can hear Mom laugh and a soft thud as she drops down onto the floor.  I set the food containers on our small wooden table, which is covered in paintings of flowers and other small things.  I did those when I was first learning to paint and this table has traveled with us for many years.  

I open one box and am met with the delicious scent of fried rice and sweet chicken.  Mom hands me our chopsticks while she tries to find clean plates.  I continue to open boxes as she looks.  She comes back in with plates and we both dig into our respective dishes; sweet and sour chicken for me and teriyaki chicken for her.

“You know, when I was growing up, your grandmother refused to let us eat Chinese food.  Said it wasn’t real Chinese food and then proceeded to make some of the most disgusting food I’ve ever eaten.”  Mom shakes her head with a smile.  “She wasn’t much of a cook but when she put her mind to something, nothing would stop her.”  She smiles softly at me.  “You remind me of her.  She would have loved you.”  I bite my lip and nod.  

My grandmother was deported when I was just a few months old.  Grandfather had passed away a year before that, and since she wasn’t an American citizen, she was sent back to China.  She passed away a few months after that, brokenhearted and alone.  Mom never forgave herself for allowing it to happen but there hadn’t been anything she could do.  Now, all Mom had were memories of her kind mother and a legacy to protect.  

We finished our meal is comfortable silence.  I got back to work on my project, finally finishing and setting it aside for tomorrow.

11:22 P.M., Thursday, June 20th 2019

I really loved my room but had no ideas for how to paint it.  Mom had suggested cherry blossoms but I’m not really the flowery type anymore.  My sketchbook is filled to the brim with ideas but I’m not a hundred percent on any of them.  Absentmindedly, I turn my pens to my arm, drawing out constellations and small dragons that float through clouds.  Too late, I realize I didn’t want to draw on my arm but something was pushing me to do so.  I huff, irritated with whatever gods that were pushing me to try and find my soulmate.  Throwing my pens to my desk, I set my sketchbook down on the floor.  Maybe some yoga will help me relax and find some new ideas.

I have access to the fire escape, where I’ve set up my yoga mat and a few plants on the windowsill.  Before going out, I make sure to lock my door; Mom had told me that the fire escape was off limits but I couldn’t help myself.  It was quiet out there, and I could almost make out the stars.  

Changing into some comfortable clothes, I quickly make my way out onto the fire escape only to find someone else already there.  A man, or what I assume is a man, in a red and blue spandex suit is perched on the railing of my fire escape.  I clear my throat and watch as he nearly slips off the rails.  He quickly rights himself and turns towards me and my heart stops in my chest.  A soft gasp escapes my mouth and the eyes on his suit widen in shock.  

“Holy shit.”  I hear softly from the man.  He must feel it too, this feeling of not being able to breathe.  I back up into my plants and my heart screams at me to go towards him, not away, but my mind wants me out of there and quickly.  He holds his hands out, trying to get me to stop moving but I just freak out a little more.  I trip over a potted plant and my whole world tips. 

In a blur, his fingers are clasped around my wrist and a small spark travels through my body.  The eyes of his mask are trained on my arm and I pull my wrist out of his grasp, quickly pulling down my sleeves to cover my doodles.  

“Why are you on my fire escape?”  I narrow my eyes at him.  Of course I know why he’s on my fire escape but I want to hear it from him.  Having an Avenger sitting on my fire escape was something I’d have to paint, I decide.  I make a mental note of how the street lights reflect off the eyes in his mask and the spider design on his suit curves over the muscles in his arms.  I allow myself to admire his form for a few moments before shaking myself out of it and crossing my arms over my chest.  I raise myself to my full height, a whopping five feet and three inches, hoping to intimidate him into telling me the truth.  

“I was uh… resting?”  I can hear the lie in his voice and narrow my eyes at him.  He sighs, which sounds odd when someone’s mouth is mostly covered.  Spider-Man pulls up the bottom part of his mask to reveal his mouth.  My mind instantly goes to what the rest of his face may look like and I have to forcibly tell myself to not freak out over this man’s mouth.  He could be a gross old man for Christ’s sake!  

“I was watching out for something exciting to happen,” he admits.  I can’t help but laugh; a hero waiting for something bad to happen?  Especially in New York?  That was rich.  Spider-Man’s mouth frowns slightly.  “What’s so funny?”

“You-” a snort interrupts my sentence and I have to pause to compose myself.  “You’re a hero in New York.  There’s crime everywhere to be stopped.”  He sighs and plops down onto the solid part of the fire escape.  I join him, slipping my legs in between the bars of the railings.  

I take a closer look at the part of his face I can see and decide that he’s not bad looking.  His mouth is thin but he has a strong jawline and a bit of a butt chin.  My fingers itch to draw this as well.  There’s just something about him that is drawing me in, almost like a magnet.  We sit in silence for what could be minutes or hours, the time passing by like water in a stream.  Before I realize it, my arm is being held in his hands again, the material of his suit causing goosebumps to appear on my skin.  

“Did you draw these?” he asks.  I take my arm back from him, somewhat upset that he’d even ask such a question.  But I can tell his eyes are focusing on the faded Pikachu and he’s suddenly standing up.  “Sorry, I gotta head out!  There's a, uh, robbery happening!”  He points down the street and I cock my head to the side, confused.  “Have a good night!”  And with that he swings into the night, leaving an empty feeling in my chest and many questions.  

[mandareeboo]

Unfinished Work #24: “Opposite Axes”

Wellll this is less ‘unfinished’ as it is ‘I’mma have to rework the SHIT out of this bc of the special and I can’t NOT put my beautiful Sunstone and co in there somewhere’ so I’mma probably scrap this part of my third in line of the Steven and Fam Fusion Musical Show and redo from step one.

Title: Opposite Axes

"Absolutely not. There's growth and then there's insanity."

"Oh, let's give it a chance, Yellow," Blue pleaded, one hand cupped over her mouth thoughtfully. "Steven's already brought us so many interesting proposals. What's wrong with this one?"

"Interesting?" Yellow repeated dubiously. "Era 3 has been a massive failure so far. Production has gone down by over forty percent!"

"Yes, but they're so much happier."

"They won't be happier when we have no more planet to live on!"

Steven's ears were ringing as the Diamonds' voices began to lift. He puckered his lips and whistled. "Look, I know I'm no good at stats like Pearl is- who, by the way, really wanted to do this presentation, and the fact that you won't even let her in the room is extremely rude-"

"Do you know how undignified it'd be if we-"

"But," he plowed over her. "This will expand production enough to make up for lost time. Pearls are far less destructive to create, and they can be beneficial in so many fields! Just imagine how many happy faces with pointy noses we could make!"

Yellow sighed and pinched the junction of her nose. "It concerns me that we've come to a point where this is making sense," she said wearily. "Listen, Steven. Having an Era 3 Pearl being made without typical refineries and allowed to run wild can cause a lot of trouble for all of us. Especially compared to the older models. We could face a full-on revolution."

"It'd kind of be one we'd deserve, don't you think?"

"Perhaps. But you know as well as I do that there are many Era 1 and 2 Gems who would still leap at the chance to be shattered to protect us. We'd be causing dustshed all across Homeworld."

"I wonder," Blue said, "What an unrefined Pearl would look like?"

"It doesn't matter what they look like," Steven stressed. "What matters is that this is the safest option- for us and for the rest of the galaxy."

"How do you know what's safe or what isn't?" Yellow challenged. "I understand that you were raised with different values, but you can't force change overnight and expect it to right everything."

"I've been working with Homeworld for three years!"

"Three years?" The Diamond stood up, running her fingers through her hair. "Stars help us, it's only been three years. How did we manage to go from galactic superpower to galactic embarrassment in three years?"

Blue took her arm. "Perhaps we should adjourn for now."

"That might be for the best," she reluctantly agreed. Yellow clapped her hands. "That will be all, Steven."

Steven saluted the typical Earth salute, turning away. Frustration bubbled just below the surface, but yelling at Yellow and Blue rarely seemed to do much good. It usually just made it all drag out more.

"He's so different from her," he overheard Blue murmur on the way out. "Yellow, what if he never remembers being Pink?"

Yellow's eyes fluttered shut. "I'm not willing to consider that option, Blue."

Overall, Steven spent the least amount of time on Homeworld as physically possible. As important as maintaining connections was, especially as the fully realized Ambassador of Earth (and, as some Gems felt the need to tack on, Keeper of a Diamond's Stone), there was something about the hard planes and structures that had never quite sat right with him. Unfortunately, Steven couldn't stay away very much anymore, seeing how pivotal his voice was for Era 3.

It had been two weeks since he'd stopped by the beach house, and it was of very little surprise to him that no one else was around when he warped inside- save for Bismuth, of course, who even after almost half a decade of peace refused to even contemplate returning to Homeworld. She tended to the house while they were away, drawing up plans and designs for various Gem machines designed more for safety and protection than war. Not that her impressive sword collection ever had the slightest chance to grow dusty, as she built and sculpted them in her free time.

"Hey," she said, sequestering over half the couch with her size. "How'd it go?"

Steven groaned. "Politics are horrible."

"Yellow being a butthead again?"

He flopped down beside her. "I get why she does it. I do. She asks the questions, I answer, nobody can pull them out later and blindside us. But does she have to be so mean about it?"

"Sounds rough, buddy." Bismuth leaned over to nudge his shoulder. "Hit me up if you ever get sick of hurdles, alright? I'll make you something nice and sharp."

Steven smiled. Homeworld seemed like it was constantly moving in some way or another- hustle and bustle, destruction and construction, who White Diamond was not pleased with that particular day- but the Gems themselves didn't change. He hadn't changed. "Thanks, Bismuth."

He doesn't recall falling asleep.

Connie's official title was Protector of the Ambassador- which is overtly long and means almost nothing to anyone; but, in Homeworld's defense, the Gems have always gone by their type. They've never needed official titles before the Crystal Gems brought them home with them- but most of them just referred to her as The Connie. At thirteen, that had bothered her greatly. At sixteen, she hardly even noticed.

But a lot had changed in three simple years. Connie had nearly tripled in height, finding herself at the same height as Pearl. Her arms and face held a scattering of scars from various violent exchanges as debates had gone on- scars that Steven could have healed up, of course, but Connie had demanded they stay, noticing that the discolorations intimidated Gems. Maybe they were reminded of Jaspers when they saw the scratch that went from her lip and over her eye, or the deep line on her shoulder she had tattooed over with a single star- and, if so, they'd have every right to be frightened. Her sword, made by Bismuth, was swirled with pink and white like a Cookie Cat, tapered to her specific height, and hung carefully from her hip.

Another sign of change was the Gems who met her at the door- not Agates, but an Amethyst and a Ruby, who gave her a respectful salute and sheepish smiles. Connie saluted them back with the signature diamond shape before going inside.

"Diamonds," she greeted, not particularly worried by how they both snapped to attention as she strolled into the room. Connie felt bad for interrupting whatever private moment they'd been sharing, but duty is duty. "I just wanted to stop by and tell you Steven's gone back to Earth for a visit."

"Of course," Yellow said, bitter, as she rubbed at her eyelids. "Make a big speech before vanishing off the planet to goof around with his rebel friends. That's so typical."

"He wants us to bring Pearls into the workforce," Blue explained, as if Connie didn't already know.

"I'm aware, ma'am."

"You were trained by one, correct? What do you think of all of this?"

"I give the proposition my full support, ma'am," Connie said firmly. "No one has the right to tell anyone what they should be, and that's what Homeworld's done for centuries now. If you really wanna change, you have to go all the way."

"Where does that put us, then?" Yellow challenged. "Diamonds are created to rule. If we break all the barriers, what happens to our system?"

"No one ever said it wasn't going to be messy, ma'am."

Yellow seemed to sink under the weight of that statement. For once, it's Blue who says that's all. Connie saluted again and walked back out, wondering with a shake of her head if there had ever been a point to any of this.

Lion seems to enjoy hopping between her and Steven, taking random Ruby ships from Homeworld to Earth and back. Today he's waiting for her outside the palace, eager to get back to what could technically be called an apartment, if apartments didn't require rent or have basic plumbing. In it's own right, it's an honor they even built a room semi-suitable to human cohabitation in the first place for them. It was just a shame that they had such limited knowledge.

The apartment is a perfectly set rectangle in the wall of one of Homeworld's many spires. It's an ugly, washed out shade of blue- like the ocean but ten times less beautiful- and contains exactly one lump that she expected was supposed to be a bed or couch or both. Her parents had insisted on getting her a comfy armchair, which was a brown smudge in the corner. The cherry on top of the horrifyingly ugly color-nightmare was Captain Lars, snoring in said ugly brown chair, in said ugly blue room, his pastel pink skin glaring.

"Back from shipment?" she asked, dismounting Lion.

"Hmm?" Lars tipped his head back, reluctantly opening his eyes. "Oh. Hey. Yeah, I'm back."

"You sound ever so pleased about that."

"I'm bored. Whatever happened to cool boss fights and daring space chases?" He flicked his cape over his shoulder dramatically. "Now I just haul cargo. You're basically a door-holder, and Steven spends his days telling giant Diamonds that maybe people should be allowed to actually think for themselves."

"The cool boss fights and space chases didn't do as much as we hoped, I guess." Connie shrugged, setting her sword aside. "It just kind of evolved into this."

"Hey, I got my buddies to Earth just fine."

"I know, and it was awesome." A giggle erupted from her, remembering her involvement fondly. "They still tell stories about you in the public octagon. Especially the Emeralds."

Lars clicked his tongue and shot some finger guns her way.

[funnelprinciple]

Connected

Jamaica mission trip

Arrival - Connected

After several months of anticipation our group of 5 dads and 5 sons left Columbus, Ohio July 13 bound for a mission trip to Kingston, Jamaica.  We would be hosted by an organization called Mustard Seed Communities, based in the Kingston area.  MSC provides since 1978 housing, care, food and education for mostly disabled and abandoned children and adults, which today numbers nearly 600.  Your thoughts and prayers and generosity have moved me.  

This trip was the idea of me, Mark Sellers and my friend John Bruzzese.  We know each other through our sons Patrick (mine) and Michael (John’s) who played basketball at Bishop Watterson High School in Columbus.  Our sons are now high school seniors and John and I felt that a trip where the boys would serve others, through the love of Christ, would be memorable.  

Besides John and me and our two sons, the mission mates include Matt Niemiec and his son Zach; Brian Haney and son Liam; and Matt Ritchey and son Max.  All are from Columbus.  

As mission leaders John and I are often looked at as the ones responsible for making this trip happen. True, but John and I are merely the products of our connections, some we sought and many we didn’t, but that somehow through the grace of God came into our lives. Collectively those connections are the inspiration and guidance for this trip.  

First, my brother Brad. It was his former  college roommate Thad McGuire at Ohio State,who went on to get his MBA, then got into a management consulting, and several years later heard a calling to the priesthood.  Thad’s now a priest in the Phoenix diocese.  Thad recommended Mustard Seed Communities.  (The logo on the t-shirts that you see all of the mission team members wearing was designed by my daughter Hannah, a graphics design graduate of the University of Cincinnati’s DAAP college).  

Another connection of mine is Steve Gran.  Steve helped me get the mission bug three years ago when he asked me to join a team in Haiti.  

John had taken a mission trip to Monterey, Mexico years ago with his daughter in 2013.

Then of course there are the mission team members.  To explain how I am connected to all of them would take too long but suffice to say I am where I am in my faith life not because of conscious choice; but rather, because of many individuals who took me in, like a stray cat needing a home.  

Arriving at Mission House Gordon Town, Jamaica

We met our drivers and mission rep, Leroy at Norman Manley airport Saturday evening.  Leroy we would learn was the perfect host for mission groups. A jovial, easy going Jamaican, he quickly cut through anxiety and anticipation with jokes and offhand funny comments.  He butchered John’s last name ‘Bruzzesse’ for ten minutes (later, on purpose I think!). We made new connections with driver Webb and mission rep Tavares, whom we later heard Leroy call ‘the mayor’ because he seemed to know everyone everywhere we went.  

During the orientation the night we arrived Leroy proudly told us about singing the new Jamaican national anthem as a young boy once the country gained independence from Great Britain in 1962.  

The cook, Beckita, had a big pot of chicken soup with dumplings on the stove for us when we arrived. Someone commented that the stock tasted like it had been reducing all day, yummy.  

Day 1 Sunday

Day 2 highlights:

-      Get out of your comfort zone to grow and really live life.  

-      Provide compassion beyond borders.

-      Participate in life instead of anticipate.  

-      Never underestimate the power of physical touch to a physically and mentally disabled person

-      Be present.

Awoke to the sounds of one of the female staff singing God is the answer.  

Actually, I awoke all through the night to the sounds of Saturday night.  Motorbikes randomly whizzed by, someone at the bar across the street would shout something, or the music there would be kicked up a few levels when someone asked.  Everyone had the same experience.  Plus, since our mission house has no AC all the windows are open and we all sweated and rolled uncomfortably in 80 degree, high humid conditions.  

Outside my room is a mango tree bearing fruit.  

Tiara

After a group breakfast and prayer we went downstairs to see the residents.  Fair to say that seeing no child or young adult not in a wheelchair and all afflicted with physical and mental disabilities was eye opening for us all. Only one of the 15 or so residents could speak a single word.  This happened to be a little girl of 12 named Tiara.  She could not only speak but had a sharp wit and irascible personality that caused all of us to laugh very hard.  

Picture this young girl in a wheelchair telling my son Patrick to ‘get back here Patrick!’ soon after he left the conversation with her.  The first thing she asked me when I met her was ‘Do you have a coloring book?’ I did and she said, ‘go get it.’  Later she asked to play cards.  ‘What games do you know?’ I asked.  ‘Go fish’ she said.  I doubted this but she quickly added ‘Go get the cards.’  I did, and we ended playing a game of flash card to see which numbers or cards and suits she knew.  I put the cards we used on the bottom but when she got one right she’d say ‘Give me my 2’, or Give me my queen’.  Tiara made us all laugh very hard.  

Miss Rookwood and Rose were the night nurses, working a 5pm to 8am shift.  They asked us if we wanted to feed the staff and we all jumped in. This again was a bit nerve racking for many of us.  In our reflection time at the end of the day several mission mates commented that they were not used to communicating with someone who couldn’t talk and even react normally to them.  

Mass

Being Catholic we were all thrilled to know there was the St. Martin de Porres church a 1 minute walk from our mission house. This was special for our mission mate Max whose confirmation saint is this saint.  Liam and Zach and several dads were able to wheel several residents to the service.  Fr Graham resided, a young Jamaican priest celebrating his 10thanniversary as a priest.  Several moments stood out for us including:

-      Fr Graham’s homily about the Good Samaritan.  We are all called to love thy neighbor especially when it is uncomfortable.  

-      Compassion beyond borders.  This applies to both physical and other borders in our heads.  

-      At the beginning of mass Fr Graham announced ‘We are blessed to have guests from Columbia, Ohio.

-      At the end of the service we were asked to introduce ourselves.  They said they were blessed to have our presence and wished us well during our visit.  

Matthew 25:40

In addition to this bible verse - which we embraced as a theme for our team – it says ‘what you do for the least of my people you do for me’, Mustard Seed has a facility – called an apostolate – for mostly teenage boys that are HIV positive.  All of these young men were born with the virus from mothers that passed it to them.

We toured the facility where they live.  Zach and Patrick and Liam and Michael played several spirited games of soccer – football in Jamaica – and at times got schooled and at other times had flashes of brilliance. We treated the boys at the home to ice cream.  One guy kept coming back for 2nds, and 3rds, and 4ths until we finally had to say no. We were told to take no photos of these boys.  

Dad Brian had a terrific conversation with 4 of the boys at the home.  At first they wanted to see his phone, which he resisted but then used it to introduce the boys to his family pictures.  Brian developed some great credibility and trust quickly and got the boys to share with him their dreams and interests.  He asked them what they needed re: supplies for school. They were so forthcoming he ended up making a long list and is considering this as an eagle scout project for his son Liam.  These are some simple items like backpacks, paper, books, calculators, a protractor. I heard one young man say ‘we like to draw here’.  

[whatsaboutalaska]

Bocas del Toro

This is going to be a very long Blogpost, because I spent a month on the beautiful Islands of Bocas del toro and I have a lot to tell you about :D

Isla Colon

It’s the main Island and although it’s one of the bigger ones, the city (bocas town - the capital of the whole Archipel) is very tiny. It won’t take you more than 10 minutes to walk from one end to the other, what might seem a bit boring, but there's always something new to discover :) !

Where to stay

Normally I don't give anti-recommendations for hostels, but although everyone I asked recommended me to stay at Selina in Bocas, it was my worst hostel experience ever. If you're like me, and more into cozy small hostels, where you easily feel at home, and not into party party, I'll recommend you not to book at Selina, especially not friday and saturday! You don't need to stay there to hang out at their dock, or join the parties at night. But I love to sleep. So these two nights were horrible for me :)!

Skully‘s House

I would have loved to stay at this hostel, but unfortunately it was fully booked when I was there. But I still spent a few hours at the place, and the dorms look amazing :)! The cheapest option for a night at Skully's are 15$! It is directly at Paunch Beach, it has a pool, and a very tasty restaurant, which unfortunately is not really cheap.

Fun Fact: The hostel in designed in Pirate theme and the owner is a bearded pirate with a real woodleg :D

Coconut hostel

It's the cheapest place I could find on the Island, and it's one of few places in Bocas where breakfast is included! Pancakes with fresh fruits! What else could you wish for? :D Although the bathrooms in the hostel are really not nice, I completely enjoyed my stay! The vibe is very family-like and they even have a rooftop full with hammocks for 5$/night if that's your thing :)! I meet an awesome israeli musician while I stayed there, who gave me a private concert the night before he left. Such an incredibly talented guy!

Pro Tipp: It doesn't matter where you stay, I really recommend you to use the loundry service at coconut hostel! They charge 3$ instead of for example 10$ at Selina!

Where to eat

Panaderia Alemana

For Germans and Austrians the hardest part while travelling is to find bread. And I mean real bread. I spent every free minute in this Bakery on Isla Colón, having breakfast, just a snack or my favorite pastries.

Pro Tipp: try the maracuya cheesecake!

Restaurante chitré

It's one of few cheap places in Bocas del Toro, and normally you just see locals eating there :)! For 4,75$ you get a huge plate of grilled chicken, rice and salad - and it's not just cheap, it's super tasty! It's also a good place to practice your spanish, while chatting with panamanians.

LaItaliana

Normally a bit pricey, LaItaliana offers a happy hour in the afternoon, where they offer a pizza plus drink for 6$! One of the best Pizzas I ever had! I recommend you to take a large pizza, the small ones are just for hobbits :D

Pollo Rosti

This little restaurant offers nothing else than grilled chicken and fries. But I can guarantee, that you won't find better chicken for this price on the whole Island! For 7$ you get half of a roasted a chicken, including fries and dips. The only thing which is bothering me, is that they serve their food on single-use plastic tableware. #savetheplanet

What to do

Rent an ATV

Flying Pirates belongs to the owner of Skully's House and is the company you want to go with, while racing through the jungle. It's definitely not a cheap activity, but by far the best I have experienced on this trip! Nearly the whole island is covered with jungle, but only Flying Pirates have access to it, because they pay rent to the owner of the land. To make sure, that no ATV drivers of other companies can enter this property, the pirate placed many traps along the trail! So make sure you listen carefully to his instructions, because you don't want to drown your ATV or die...

So go for it and enjoy this amazing adventure, but be prepared: you will get back very very dirty and maybe a bit injured. #dontflip #yesIdid

Cacao Ceremony

In Bocas del Toro I experienced my very first cacao ceremony! I'm not religious or spiritual, so things like that always seemed a bit strange for me but honestly I enjoyed it a lot! It's a gathering of different people who mostly sit in a circle, drink cacao, and combine that with for example yoga, sound healing or dancing. Since centuries cacao is used for physical and mental healing, it actually increases your bloodflow and produces endorphins. This topic is so big, it deserves a whole blog post itself, so if you're interested and want to know more about it, I share this article with you: http://www.balispiritfestival.com/blog/cacao-ceremonies-what-why-and-how

Bioluminescence Tour

This tour is definitely one big highlight of my whole trip, because it is so different than any other boattrip I experienced. You have to be a bit lucky to get the experience, because you're only able to see bioluminescence in the water when it's really dark, so tours just take place around new moon. I did my tour exactly on new moon, and it was a breathtaking experience for me. It was quite scary to jump into the sea, in the middle of the night, and I definitely overcame some fears on that trip! Because it was completely dark, our guide was whistling all the time, to make sure we find him in the water and don't get lost. If you want to know some more about the tour and about bioluminescence in general I recommend you to read following article: https://hellotravelpanama.com/packages/bioluminescence-tour/

Surf!

I'm not a very comfortable surfer, so I never tried it in Bocas. Butt everyone else does, because it's a great surfer destination! The waves are really high and often very dangerous, so it's not the best place to start with surfing, but you'll definitely love it when you're a bit more advanced. But don't surf at Bluff Beach! In the last years, a lot of people died surfing there, and nearly everyone who tries breaks their boards.

Zapatilla Tour

Although Bocas del Toro is a very expensive place, you can book daytours for not more than 25$/person! A must do is a tour to Cayo Zapatilla, which should include a stop at dolphin bay, sloth island, Hollywood (starfish island) and the coral snorkel spot. This tour is definitely a highlight for me so far! I've seen a lot of dolphins, but unfortunately you can't go for a swim with them, because the bay is full of jellyfish!

Stand Up Paddling!

From Isla Colon you can easily paddle to Isla Carenero, which is just one minute away if you take the boat. If you are not very familiar with surfing or stand up paddling, I would NOT recommend you to rent your gear at Selina, because they also have no Idea. So I ended up with a big surfboard, instead of an SUP board, sitting on it and trying not to fall. Well, at least the board was pink :D!

Plastic Bottle Village

I have no idea how I could have missed this place, but it's so amazing, that I definitely need to share it with you!

Years ago, a Canadian called Robert moved to the Island and started to collect water bottles, instead of throwing them away, and in the last years he built a whole village out of these bottles. He designed a huge castle, and even built little houses you can rent and live in, for a very good price! With his program he wants to draw attention to the excessive use of plastic, and with the money he earns he supports the local community and tries to educate children about this important topic. If you want to know more about this project, visit the website! http://www.plasticbottlevillage-theline.com/

Where to shop

Black Cat

This shop is not just my favorite for shopping clothes, it also sells very extraordinary souvenirs. Everything they sell is unique and nearly all their designs are self made. Unfortunately it's not backpacker budget friendly, but I love every piece I bought there! They also sell underwear with very special prints in four different sizes and three different shapes, which are 15$ per piece, but super comfortable and unique!

Tutty n Fish

Best place to buy fish and seafood to cook it at home! Unfortunately I never had the chance to buy the tuna because it was always sold out, but I heard it's amazing, and it's super cheap!

Farmacia el Javillo

It seems a bit weird to recommend a farmacy, but unfortunately I spent a lot of time in pharmacies and also been to the hospital in Bocas del Toro. Apparently it's very easy to open a farmacy in Central America, for which reason the quality and the prices of the products differ a lot. With this farmacies I never had any problems, they gave me good advices and they also speak a little english :)!

Isla Bastimentos

Because Bocas Town was a bit to much party for me, and I definitely wanted to stay at a beautiful beach, I moved to Isla Bastimentos after three days, and very spontaneously I started to work in an incredible hostel directly at Red Frog Beach!

Where to stay

Palmar Beach Lodge

Where should I start! I stayed one month volunteering at this place, had the most amazing people around me, spent Christmas and New Years Eve here and couldn't wish for a better time! This place is a very nice mixture of a hotel and hostel. They offer very luxurious bungalows and tents, but also cheap mixed 8-bed cabins which are the most amazing dorms I have ever seen! The only thing that doesn't really fit into the low budget plan of a backpacker, is that there is no guest kitchen at the hostel. So you have no choice but eating at the restaurant all day long, which is super super tasty and backpacker budget friendly :)!

What to do

Red frog beach

If you stay at Palmar this beach is directly in front of your door. It's the most famous beach in the whole Archipel, but honestly not the most perfect one for swimming, because mostly the current is really strong, and there's always a red flag. To spot a red frog you have to be very lucky, because they are super tiny!

Polo Beach

It's a 40 minute walk through the jungle and on the beach to get from Red Frog Beach to Polo Beach, and it's 100% worth it! There are no hotels - just Polo lives there. He's an old guy who built himself a little cabin and sells coconuts, drinks, and sometimes even fresh grilled fish.

Wizard Beach

To get to this beach it's quite a long walk through the jungle! Unfortunately I never arrived there, because the time I tried there were so many ants that I turned around. Make sure you get back before it gets dark, because you really don't walk this path at night! The last years there were a lot of robberies along this trail, so make sure you don't go alone and don't take valuable things with you :)

Up in the Hill

If you walk 20 minutes uphill from Old Bank, the main town of Bastimentos, you get to this cacao farm, run by a Scottish family. Unfortunately I never booked a tour there, but I hiked all the way up to bring back their lost dog, but apparently it wasn't their dog... (it was the dog of another cacao farm)

Pro Tipp: Try their selfmade brownies :)!

Marina

It's the place where all the private sailing boats and catamarans dock, and normally you're not really supposed to go there because it's a private property, so your only allowed there if you have a boat. But you definitely have the most beautiful sunset view in Bastinentos :)!

Isla Carenero

If you’re a fan of party and you want to join filthy Friday (it’s like a pub crawl every Friday, but they take you to different islands for this group drinking experience) you can just stay at Agua Lodge, and get Filthy Friday for „free“, because every group will stop there. I didn’t stay in this hostel, because I’m not really into party, but they have a trampoline where you can jump directly into the water.

Isla Solarte

Bambuda Lodge

This hostel is usually fully booked. Even in low season. So be fast, if you want to stay in this amazing hostel! I didn’t sleep there, but spent a full day at the island and had dinner at the hostel. It doesn’t have a guest kitchen, so there is no other choice than eating in the Bambuda restaurant, or going to the main island. The restaurant is pricey (one meal is around 12-15$) but i strongly recommend you to eat there at least once! You can pick out of four different meals, which change every day, and the food is delicious!

If you are not a guest, and just go there for Dinner or the Pool, expect to pay a fee of 5$.

Transportation

If you're not a friend of boat rides, you will have a hard time in Bocas. Around three times a week I took a shuttle from Bastimentos to Isla Colon, just because I really enjoy cruising between the islands. Fortunately all this boat trips were free for me, because it was a private shuttle from the hostel I worked at, otherwise you'll pay a lot of money on boat rides while you stay there. Don't hesitate to negotiate, all the locals will try to rip you off.

Tipps and Tricks

Just buy necessary stuff!

As I already mentioned, Bocas is super expensive. So bring everything you might need, and try to avoid buying medicines, technical devices and other things you can probably buy on the mainland or town, because the smaller islands are even more expensive!

Use the free shuttles

If somebody asks, I never told you about this! But there are many hostels who provide Free Shuttles between the islands, and they never really check if you're a guest or not. Make use of it and save some money :)

Bring a shopping bag

The whole Archipel of Bocas del Toro is completely plastic bag and straw free! Isn't that amazing? So if you plan on buying some groceries, bring a shopping bag!

Don't bring expensive clothes

Living in the jungle kills your clothes. It's close to 100% humidity, mold grows easily and you will never really have the feeling of fresh smelling clothes. Sad but true, make sure that you store your clothing always in the fresh air to prevent the worst.

Never buy tours online

It doesn't matter where you go, but NEVER ever book tours online, especially not on TripAdvisor. All the Tours you'll find on the internet are two or three times more expensive! There are so many tour companies, especially in Bocas del Toro, you really don't need to worry about saving a spot. Book spontaneously, that's where you get the best discounts!

Mosquitos!

Make sure to use enough repellent and don't spend to much time on the beach and the docks after it's getting dark. If you don't want to use too much chemical products, you can prevent Mosquito and sandfly bites with coconut oil.

Learn to say NO

Especially in Bocas Town, everyone tries to sell you tours, boat trips, food and mostly they are really good in what they do. When I started this trip I always had the feeling I need to be nice, and thought it's rude to just walk away. I learned very fast, that this isn't how it works, and that you clearly have to tell them that you're not interested. "¡No, gracias!" , will be your new favorite phrase.

I completely enjoyed my stay in Bocas del Toro, and definitely would love to come back some day :D